Speakeasy
by shannygoat
Summary: AU Two rival clubs, a missing shipment and a boat full of dead smugglers. In 1925 Prohibition either made you rich or made you cry. Crime, guns, booze, and women...God I love a Speakeasy. Batista, Cena, Orton, Edge, JBL, Hardy Boyz, and more. R
1. Chapter 1

Title: Speakeasy

Rating: NC-17 for violence, language, mature themes, strong sexual content, & illegal activities.

Characters:

The Spot

Big D – Dave Batista

Johnny Boy- John Cena

Smiley Copeland – Edge

KO- Randy Orton

Candy Kane – Kane

Enigmatic – Jeff Hardy

Classics 

Lucky Layfeild – JBL

Sneaky Shetlon - Shelton Benjamin

Taker – Undertaker

Moves Hardy- Matt Hardy

The All-Nighter - Johnny Nitro

Babyface Moore – Shannon Moore

The Feds 

Hunter "The Headhunter" Helmsely - Triple H

"The Bishop" Shawn Michaels - Shawn Michaels

Cap - Teddy Long

The Dons

Double V - Vince McMahon

Bugsy Jarrett - Jeff Jarrett

The Muscle

The Show - Big Show

Big Kev - Kevin Nash

Summary: Two rival clubs, a missing shipment and a boat full of dead smugglers. In 1925 prohibition either made you rich or made you cry. Blood, guns, booze, and women...God I love the Speakeasy.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the talent from either WWE or TNA wrestling, nor do I haver permission to use them in my story. The characters are very loosely based on their TV personas. I do not intend any disrespect or slander by this story. The only thing I own is this story...it is meant as a form of flatery. Thank you for not sueing.

* * *

**Prologue **

The Shipment

It was pitch black outside, but the waters were calm. There was no reason to suspect anything would go wrong. This was routine for Smackdown Shipping lines and the Mysterio distillery in Mexico. All the boat and crew had to do was make the trip from Mexico to Boston, following the same route they always did. The boat, Jefe, which meant the boss, had already made this trip three times in the last six months.

The crew sat around playing cards, not giving a crap about anything, but unloading. Once the package was dropped and the money changed hands, the crew would enjoy a show and maybe find comforts in a few of those broads that hung out at the club. This shipment was going to be a piece of cake.

The crates of hooch were hidden in the underbelly of the ship. To any Fed sticking his big nose below the deck, it looked like Jefe was merely delivering fishing gear to the Americas. They even had an explanation for why they didn't just dock in California. Everyone knew how big of a battle the Smackdowns Lines had with the TNA Stevedores in California. Boston was a friendlier port. Plus, everyone knows that the best ice fishermen always came out of Massachusetts.

With the dock in sight, the bell started to ring. The crew laid down their hands and started the task of uncovering the barrels that laid beneath the floor boards. One hundred cases of Tequila, fifty cases of Vodka, forty cases of Bourbon, and twenty of Scotch were all neatly stacked under the ship. This was a big order, but then again, the orders had increased in size lately. Prohibition was making everybody rich; everyone from the distilleries around the world, to the steam lines that illegally transported it, to club owners who sold bombers, to the mafia that backed them; there wasn't one pocket in the booze business that didn't get a little fatter, thanks to Uncle Sam.

* * *

"Veo a alguien." _I see somebody_. The Captain called over the loudspeaker to stop the crew from uncovering anymore cases. The anchor had already been dropped and the ramp lowered to the dock's floor. He had to make sure this was on the up and up before they all got popped by the coppers. "Tomar tus posiciones hasta que consigo detrás." _Take your positions until I get back._ The Captain grabbed his hat and started down the ramp, heading toward the three parked cars and six men that waited. 

There were no streetlight, they couldn't be. This was about as illegal as it got in 1925. The mobs ran these streets, they controlled everything. They controlled the ports, the cops, the clubs, and the liquor. There were only a few Goodfellas that were recognizable but even if you weren't in a family, to be in this business, you had to be protected by one. The mobs didn't have fear, but still, there was always a Fed or two who wanted to move up in the ranks. Someone was always watching. Deals like these were always made in darkness.

"Gentlemen, can I help you?" Captain Eddie Guerrero spoke to the men as he approached. His orders were simple, drop off the supply. And though this was Captain Guerrero's first run to Boston, he knew that these guys would have to prove to him that they were in fact the rightful owners of the shipment. Captain Guerrero approached the cars and tried to make out a face. He was told that when he found the buyers, they would give him a password. "You caballeros need something?"

There were a few chuckles from the crowd, but no one moved. "I believe you got something of ours." A voice rang out. They made no attempts to walk forward, or turn on their head lights so the Captain could see. Instead, they leaned up against the cars, making sure the Gatlin guns that they were holding were visible in the shadows casting on the ground.

Captain Guerrero looked confused. He knew these men were going to be armed, but not that they would be pointing their Gats at him. "How do I know you're the right owners?"

"Because my friends say so." A face became slightly visible once the match was struck. The tip of the cigarette between his lips glowed amber and then the light on his face disappeared. "Show 'em." The man with cigarette motioned his head as the circles of smoke dance around his hat.

Captain Guerrero stood still as the briefcase was opened in front of him. There was more money in that briefcase than he had ever seen in his entire life. "Mr.?"

"Moneybags." The smoke came out in jagged form as the man laughed. "You can call me Moneybags."

"Mr. Moneybags, I gotta job to do and if you ain't the right owners, I can't part with what's on my boat." Captain Guerrero knew how it worked. He might take a beating in the US, but it was nothing compared to what he'd get when he got back to Mexico. If the bosses found out that the shipment went to the wrong mugs, there would be hell to pay. The Captain turned around slowly, but turned back when his name was called.

"I gotta deal for ya. How about we say that I showed you my credentials, you take the money and give me my shipment." Mr. Moneybags blew out the last of the smoke in the face of the Captain, before flicking his cigarette against the Captain's jacket.

The Captain looked around, noticing how the shadows seemed to get closer to him. This was going all wrong; it was an ambush. "¡Es una disposición!" _It's a setup!_ The Captain yelled to his crew as he tried to run. He had heard that the relationship between Mysterio's and the buyer was on the rocks, be he had no idea it was this bad. But then again, he knew about the rival buyers. The goons that were standing there could've worked for them. All the Captain knew was he had to get to his boat and get the hell out off that port, before something real bad happened.

* * *

There was the faintest sound of the bell from the buoy going off in the distance, the steam seemed to rise from the waters of the Boston Harbor, other than that, it was a still night. The weather was warm, especially for that time of year. The fall in Boston, usually had a chill to the air, but this night, it was almost like summer. 

The guys knew there wasn't another person within miles. The local cops had been paid off, so they wouldn't be intervening. The only thing that stood in their way of the booze and their money was this crew; these Mexican sailors, who could go back and tell what really happened. There wasn't any choice.

When the first shot rang out, there was a bright light. The Gatlin had more kick then they thought. But it was amazing how fast the bullet came out of that gun and even more amazing at how big of a hole it blew in the Captain's back. The laughter of the goons could hardly be heard overtop of the kick from the Gat or the shrieking of the crew on the boat. Not that it mattered. There was no one else around.

The six men walked slowly toward the dock, laughing. As soon as they stepped on that ramp, the sky lit up like fireworks. After the last crate was packed into the car, one final thing had to be done. A simple cufflink was dropped on the Captain's body. "Welcome to Boston."

In the calm waters the remained a boat, filled with 25 bodies, stacked neatly inside. No one would notice, not until morning anyway. After all, there was no reason to suspect anything would go wrong with this shipment. It was a routine delivery.

* * *

_A/N: Now I know I have no business posting another story, when I have 4 unfinished right now. But this story has been keeping me up at night. I love the Roaring 20s and the whole underground Speakeasy life. More than likely this will be a long story. Especially since I started writing things down so I wouldn't forget to do things with this story. And just so you don't get confused, I'm toying with a style of writing that I don't usually do. Each chapter will be in 1st person, but each chapter will a different character narrator. _

_I hope you like it, enjoy!_

_Shanny_


	2. Big D's Problem

_A/N: This chapter might be a hard read. I know the subjects and verbs don't agree, but I want the language to be as real as possible. In my mind they have Bostonian/New York accents. _

_This story is heavily based off of four of my favorite movies, The Usual Suspects, Harlem Knights, Mobsters and Bugsy Malone. You might also find it helpful to go back to the first page and look at the list of characters, if you don't remember who they are._

* * *

Big D's Problem

The place is packed already, it should be a good night. I hate doing the books, but on nights like this, I don't mind so much. I'd rather be out there mingling, making sure my patron's are happy, but business is business and I got a shipment coming in.

From where I sit, I can hear the music. I ain't sure who this band is, but that broad singing, is definitely a looker. As soon as the package is dropped, I'm putting down this pencil and see if I can score. There are some perks to owning a club.

Who am I? They call me Big D. I'm the owner and proprietor of The Spot. I got the name when I was 18; named by Don Double V, himself. Most of the fellas think it's because of my size; I'm 6 foot 5, 295 pounds of muscle, but that ain't the real reason. Just ask any of the broads that work here, they'll tell you the D don't stand for David. It's a funny story really, see, I was dating the Don's niece, only I ain't know she was his niece and…you don't want to hear that story do you? No, we got business to discuss.

You wanna know what happened don't you. Well here's what I know. Earlier tonight, I sent the boys out to make sure that everything goes according to plan. The Feds have breathing down my neck trying to find out what exactly happens at The Spot. I told 'em, we're just a gentleman's club, a place for fellas to come when they wanna enjoy a good cigar and live band. And we ain't no ordinary clip joint, not like that low class dive, Classics. Anybody can have dames walk around naked, but how many joints are there that have 'em perform for you too? This joint is my vision, it's my baby. I treat her like a dame should be treated.

Now between you and me, President Coolidge is making me rich. Prohibition is my bread and butter. Sure it costs a pretty penny to smuggle juice into the country, but man is it worth it. You wouldn't believe how much I can charge for a shot of Bourbon. We keep everything under wraps around here. The front of the joint looks like a grocery, but come to the back stairs and knock three times, give the password and the doors open up to your wildest fantasies.

Don't get me wrong, it's expensive to make this much money. But, I get my backing from Double V. He's the richest son-of-a-bitch in Southey. He pays for the shipments; I pay him back with my profit. Of course, I cook the books a little, but not so much that he notices. I ain't crazy; I ain't trying to die from cheating a Don. But, we go back a long ways, so I don't cheat him that much.

I only got two problems now. The first is, the distillery in Mexico wants to up their prices. The more they charge, the more I borrow, which means the more I owe Double V and the less profit I make. I can't up the price of a shot, 'cause if I charge too much, the customers will just go to Classics. Ain't no way in hell, I'm giving my customers to the likes of Lucky Layfield. My other problem is the fucking Feds. I use to have an in, I had a Fed in my pocket, until he moved up. Now that son-of-a-bitch is trying to squeeze this joint for every penny we make. Double V says I can't take out a Fed, he says we don't need no more heat. But I say, what Double V don't know won't hurt him. My guys are good, they don't make mistakes and they don't leave evidence.

You might be wondering who my boys are and how we're connected. Let me first make this clear, we _ain't_ in the mob. None of us is made men. When I was a kid, I did a couple of favors for Double V and this joint was my payment. He wanted a little extra money and I needed a project. Instead of having soldiers work for me, I decided to hire my friends. Just average Joe's I knew from the neighborhood, everyday mugs with tempers, raps sheets and a lot of fucking problems.

Johnny Boy is my best friend. He's good with the ladies and is just as calm as you please. It takes a lot to get him excited, but he don't never break a sweat. Looking at him, you wouldn't think he'd snap your neck without blinking. It's always good to have Johnny Boy around. Next up, there's Smiley Copeland, he's a fucking lunatic. I ain't never met a happier bastard in all my life. Smiley's always got this sick fucking smile on his face. But don't let the blonde hair and perfect teeth fool ya. Smiley'll cut your throat faster than I can give the order. Then there's Randy "KO" Orton. He's a hot head. It's best not to have KO go out by himself. We call him that because all it takes is one punch and you're knocked out. When you come to, you're flat on your back with a Tommy gun pointed at your skull. KO don't think, he swings first, so we always make sure that he ain't involved in business transactions.

Then there's Candy Kane. He's a giant bastard, but he's sweet, like a woman. Candy's always worrying about something, always trying to get me to see all sides of the problem before I react. People think because he's seven feet tall, that he ain't got a brain. But Candy's one of the smartest bastards out there. He's always got an angle and knows a mark when he sees one. And finally, there's Enigmatic. After all the years I known him, I still ain't figured him out. He's quiet bastard. People think the quiet ones don't do no wrong, well they ain't never met my boy before. Enigmatic might be into art and music and shit like that, but he's also a genius with weapons. He could rewire this entire place without breaking a sweat and I ain't _never_ seen a faster trigger finger. No, Enigmatic don't miss a target and he always aims for the head. But don't try to talk to him. He's liable to shoot you before he answers your question. His southern accent's a dead give away; he's wanted in three states. He don't talk much, because he can't hide where he's from. The quiet ones ain't shy, they're hiding something.

I trust my boys with my life, so how do you think I felt when I found out about this shit?

* * *

I should've known something was wrong, because the boys came back an hour after they should've. I watched them file in, all of them with that same look on their faces. "I ain't never seen a sadder set mugs than on yous guys. What the fuck took you so long?" 

Nobody's in the mood for talking. Something's up. I look over each and every one of them and no one makes eye contact. "Where's the goods?" I look at Johnny Boy for answers. "Johnny?"

I hate when he shakes his head instead of talking, but Johnny Boy don't excite easy. You can usually see what he's thinking by the look on his face. "There was a problem with the shipment."

I don't like problems, I don't deal with problems. "Well, that's what I got you mugs for. You're the problem solvers. So where the fuck is the booze?"

"We got pinched Big D. When we got there, the boat was cleaned out." How the fuck can Johnny Boy be so fucking calm about this shit?

I don't get mad easy, but right now, I'm about to shoot someone. "Where's the loot?" This fucking silence is getting on my nerves. "I asked a simple fucking question. I send you fellas out with twenty thousand dollars. You come back here and you ain't got no booze or my money? What the fuck happened?" Again, fucking silence. "Candy? Explain this."

"Big D, something went wrong. We shoulda known something was off because the boat wasn't at the spot. It was all the way down on Pier 10." Candy's so good at being level headed. He's already rehearsed his speech to me, I know it.

"Pier 10? Why was it down there? Those guys know that the Rum Road is 20 miles from there." This ain't adding up. We been doing business with Mysterio Distilleries for four years now. Never once have they missed the drop off point. "What else?"

Candy looks at the other guys. I know he ain't telling me everything. "When we finally found the boat, we seen the Captain lying on the pier. We knew something was up."

Well, that explains why there ain't no booze. It don't explain where the money is. "And?"

"They used a Gatlin'." This is probably the first time Enigmatic spoke without me having to almost beat an answer out of him. "No mistake about it. There was hole the size of a cannon in that Captain's back. Plus, I seen the tracks. That's a big fuckin' gun to lug around."

"A Gat? Who the fuck uses a Gat?" I ain't in the mood for this shit tonight. Alls I wanted was to pack away the shipment and talk to that singer. Now I gotta deal with this shit.

We all look at the door, the minute we hear a knock. A simple nod of my head and KO's on his post. He knows the drill. I can tell by the smile on his face, it's a dame. He only smiles like when there are breasts involved.

Everyone watches her walk across the room. Stacy "Legs" Keibler. She's been working here for about a year and she drives the boys wild. It could have something to do with the fact that she has the longest legs and wears the shortest dresses. I love Flappers. "Big D…Double V's here." If nothing else, I'm a gentleman. I don't care how much I want to beat the shit out of these guys right now, Legs ain't done nothing wrong to me. Plus, I really like that little outfit she's wearing.

I can't resist running my hand up her leg. She shouldn't be standing that close to me, besides, she don't mind. I done more to those legs on more than one occasion. In fact, there ain't a broad that works here that I ain't touched. Call it job security, call it whatever you like. "Thanks Doll. And Legs…have the girls entertain him for a while. I got to finish something first."

"You want I should go talk to him?" KO's a knucklehead. Why would I want _him_ to talk to the Don? He ain't good at talking.

"Go watch the fucking door, you moron." It ain't his fault he's so fucking stupid. But with hands like that, I gotta keep him around. "And KO, don't say shit about shit until I know what's up."

As soon as the door closes, the fellas look back at me. "Ok, so the Captain's dead and the boat's clear. Where's the fucking money?" I look at Johnny, then back at Candy. "Boys?"

"We left it in the car when we went to the boat. I ain't never seen so many bodies stacked up in my fucking life. It was like…a fucking war took place on that ship." Johnny looks at Candy who's nodding in agreement. "We was looking around, we didn't think to leave nobody with the loot. No one knew about the fucking shipment, how was we supposed to know it was setup?"

"Twenty thousand dollars…you left twenty fucking thousand dollars alone in a car and you ain't think to put one mug on the money? Did you at least get the bill of lading from the boat or the fishing gear?" As soon as he shakes his head, I know I'm gonna have to fuck him up. "Jesus, Johnny Boy, you don't fucking think at all, do you? Everything on that manifesto is registered to this club. At least you coulda got the fucking gear, so when the Feds come sniffing around, they don't have nothing to trace." I hate having to put my boys in their place in front of the others, but the situation demands that somebody be responsible for this fuck up. "One time, I put you in charge one time and you fuck up. Sometimes, you're so fucking stupid, I can't stand it."

"So what we gonna do?" Johnny Boy's always trying to get to the point. He ain't one for long conversations. "How we gonna explain this to Double V?"

"_We_ ain't gonna explain shit. Yous guys are gonna go back that boat and find out who the fuck has my booze and my money. I don't care what you gotta do…I don't want no evidence. Enigmatic, once yous check it out, I want you to blow that ship, sky high." The boys nod in understanding. That's all they need, a strong leader. I was hoping that Johnny would be a leader; I can't do this shit forever. But right now, I ain't so sure about him. "Candy, you're with me. We need to figure out what we're gonna tell Double V. Johnny, get KO and some of the Seventh Streeters, we need numbers for this job. Whoever fucked up my shipment and stole Double V's money, is gonna die…tonight."

All I can do is sit at the table with my hands holding my head. Twenty grand don't sound like a lot, but when it's the Don's money and I ain't got no profit or no product, twenty grand is my life. How was I supposed to know, there was gonna be a problem? This was a routine fucking shipment.


	3. Lucky Layfield's Problem

_A/N: I had no idea that people would actually like this story. I didn't know that the 20s were interesting to anyone else except me. I have to say, I'm amazed, but I'm also a little afraid. People seem to have such high hopes about this and I don't want to disappoint. I sounds good in my head and I don't know if I can really pull this off. So be patient, I'll try. And to Torque, this is all your doing. If The Roof wasn't so fucking good, I wouldn't have thought about a Speakeasy. You are my muse!_

_Ok, so this chapter is kinda like the last one. I've written 3 other chapters, but it would be confusing to dive in with a different character if you haven't been introduced to these guys first. __Anyway, this chapter is based off of one of the greastest movies of all times; Last Exit to Brooklyn. _

* * *

Lucky Layfield's Problem

We couldn't have more customers if I was giving the fucking booze away. The main act ain't even gone on yet and already I got a packed house. If these stiffs were packed in here any tighter, I'd need to call the fucking Fire Marshall. But even with all these Joe's here, tonight's gonna be a slow one. I don't know what the deal is, but for some reason, we ain't packing 'em in like we use to.

Everyone knows that liquor ain't legal, but they also know if they wanna good time and a good drink this is the place they need to be. So what I can't figure is why my joint is always packed, but I ain't turning a profit no more. I can't cut the prices to compete with The Spot, if I did, I'd be paying these lousy drunks to come here. If I raise the prices to turn a profit, I might as well be escorting these fuckers straight to Big D's door and I'd shit a brick before I'd let that happen. Classics was what we was all gonna get rich off of, now she's sucking us dry like a cheap dime store whore.

You don't know me do you? They call me Lucky Layfield, I own this joint. I got the name from my uncle, Don Bugsy Jarrett. He calls me Lucky because while I was in Texas, I struck it rich in oil. Now imagine everyone's surprise, when a thug like me won a refinery from some stiff in a card game. He ain't know that I fixed the deck, but then again, he couldn't really say nothing; not when the barrel of my gun was down his throat. Well low and behold, I won that refinery and that fucker panned out.

Now I know yous probably wondering if I'm rich on my own, why I'm worried about the club? This is where the story gets all fucked up. The only reason I was in Texas was because I was in to the Don for fifty large. Family don't mean shit when it comes to money; I fucked up a delivery for him and I either had to pay him back in cash or with my life. I may look stupid, but I ain't, so I decided to make up the cash I lost. I did a bid for Bugsy down in Texas and felt lucky one night at a card game. Just so happens I won, but because I was there on Bugsy's dime, all that money went to him. Oh, he was nice enough to give me some scraps…I got my life and this club but that's about it. But what a club she is. Classics, is the classiest joint in all of Boston.

Upstairs is a fucking bookstore, but take the steps down where the sign reads Foreign Lit…and prepare to be amazed. That fucking grip Big D thinks The Spot's hot, well that's only because he's too much of a pussy to step foot in Classics. We got it all. We got some of the most exotic dames working here, nothing but top shelf booze and the music…everyone from Louis Armstrong to Cole Porter done played my joint. And if you think the music's hot, just look around the crowd. My VIP list is always growing…just the other night, Babe Ruth himself, sat as a guest at the Don's table. Classics is a world class joint, so why the fuck ain't we making business like we use to?

I know for a fact, that if I was made, I wouldn't be having the problems I am. Right now, I'm losing money faster than I can make it. My biggest problem is the fucking Feds. These sons-of-bitches think 'cause their checks are signed by Uncle Sam himself, that gives 'em the right to come in here and try to bust my balls. They're taking their cut right off the top, which means, I gotta split _my_ profits with the Don. Now tell me this, if I pull in thirty grand a week, but I gotta pay these bastards ten, and pay the Don seven, take care of the club, pay off the local cops, keep the boys in tailor made suits and give the broad a few pennies so they'll continue to shake their asses…you see what my problem is now? I gotta find a way to get made or get rid the Feds, to make this place work for me.

My boys all think I got it easy, with my uncle being a Don and all. I should have no problems getting made, right? Well I do, I gotta big fucking problem. My problem is my Mick father. Ain't no way in hell, they gonna let an Irishman become a boss. It's the fucking rule of the streets, ain't nothing I can do about it. The only reason my uncle's kept me this close to the family is because of my mother, God rest her soul. When she died, I was entrusted to Bugsy, that's when I became his fucking errand boy, indebted to him for the rest of his miserable fucking life.

Well, enough of this memory lane shit, let's get down to business. I gotta lotta shit to do before the boys get back. Plus, as soon as we finish this conversation, I got a little backroom visit, with that hot little number working the door. Hell, I gotta get something outta this place.

Ok, so you wanna know if I'm responsible for that shit that went down on the pier. Let me first say this, I been here the whole fucking night. I sent out my crew out because _we_ had a shipment coming in and my boys are fast. They can get the shit off the boat and into the cars before those fucking pigs have a chance to put down their donuts. You don't know my crew, do you? Well let me tell you; these guys are tops.

My boy, my number two, is the guy we call, 'The All-nighter' Johnny Nitro. There ain't too many thugs that do their dirt in broad daylight, but All-nighter has to. Once he meets a broad, you don't see his ass again until the next morning. All-nighter's got a way of making people talk; it could have something to do with his passion for pain, but I don't ask no questions. He's effective, that's all I care about. Next, is Sneaky Shelton. He's probably the fastest fucker you'll ever meet. He'll shake your hand, steal your wallet and fill you full of holes, all before you can say hello. Plus, Sneaky's good at getting the drop on people. You won't even see him standing there, but you better bet he's heard your entire fucking conversation and he's plotting on how to use it against you. Then we got Taker. We call him Taker, because if you got something he wants, he'll fucking take it. And standing at almost seven feet tall, there ain't too many people that say no to him, either. Taker don't ask for shit, no matter what it is. He'll take the shirt off your back or your life…it don't matter to him. He's got that, what's yours is mine, attitude that's good to have around.

Then there's the Carolina two; Moves Hardy & Babyface Moore. Moves is the guy that always has a plan. I ain't never seen someone case a joint like Moves. It only takes him about two hours, but he comes back knowing every position, everyone's name and exactly where the money is. He's what I'd like to call the logistics man…but that fucking guy probably can't even spell logistics. Moves got a knack for watching people; he knows your next move before you do. You gotta watch him, he's a tricky one. And finally, there's Babyface. He's the young one, the pretty boy of the bunch, the one that all the dames fall for. But don't let that face fool you, he's a low down dirty criminal just like the rest of us. Babyface is as good at talking as he is good looking. All he does is bat them baby blues and smile with them dimples and he'll sweet talk you right out of everything you own. He might look all innocent and shit, but he's a fire bug. He'll burn anything down and stand around to watch the fucking flames. We don't leave Babyface alone for too long, he gets bored real easy and when he gets bored, my insurance goes up.

I hand picked these guys myself, so I know I can trust 'em. Half I known since I was a kid, the others, I met in the joint. They may work for me, but we're all friends, we got each others backs. I'd lay my life down for any of my boys and I know they'd do the same for me.

So now that you know about the crew; answer me this…how the fuck do I keep my uncle from killing 'em?

* * *

I shoulda gone with the boys tonight, but I had some business to take of. The Don's coming later and I need to make sure things is on the up and up. This is the first shipment we ever done with Mysterio Distilleries, and I want to be there to make sure that nothing goes wrong. Now, I know it ain't a smart move stepping on Double V's turf. But, if them Mexican's don't mind doing a little double business, then neither do I. Besides, my guys are fast, they'll be long gone before Big D's fucking goons show up.

As soon as the phone rings, I get a sinking feeling in my gut. "What?" Nobody ever calls on this line unless there's a problem.

"Lucky…we got pinched." I can hear it in All-nighter's voice that this wasn't the fucking coppers that caught 'em.

"What the fuck you mean you got pinched? Where the fuck are yous?" I don't know what's going on, but I don't like the sound of it. "And why the fuck are you telling this shit over the phone for? Don't you know the fucking Feds is just looking for a reason to bust my ass?"

I don't know what's worse, not knowing what happened, or the fucking silence. "You want I should tell you now, or me to come back and risk losing the bastards that hit us?"

"Talk fast." I know All-nighter and I know that he'll tell me so that the fucking Feds won't have a clue what he's talking about.

I can hear the bell from the buoy in the background, so I know they're still at the docks. "We was all set to pick up the books from the publisher, but when we got there, they was sold out. Only, we already paid for the fucking books, so now; we ain't got no money or no fucking reading materials."

How the fuck can five guys leave my place with forty thousand dollars to pay for booze and not have nothing to show for it? "Why the fuck did you pay up front?"

"We didn't. As soon as we stepped foot in that publishing house and was dodging fucking copyrights. Someone knew we was coming. Someone that uses the same printing companies." That's all All-nighter needs to say. I know exactly what went down.

I understand that when they got to that boat, they was ambushed. Some fucking wise guys, decided to open fire on my boys. Where we come from, that's how you start a war. "What happened to the money?"

"Musta dropped it. Alls I know, is when by the time we was able to stand, all that was left was us and bunch of dead publishers. No books, no money, no nothing." I can hear it in All-nighter's voice that he's pissed. He wants to get even, but we need a game plan before we go busting skulls.

I can't deal with this tonight. Not when Bugsy's on his way to the club. It's bad enough that I used his cut from the last shipment to pay for this one. But when I tell him, we ain't got nothing…he's gonna have a bullet for each of us. "Tell the boys to get their fucking asses back here. Babyface better be thinking of something good to tell the Don." My brain's racing. Who the fuck could've known that we was double crossing Double V? "And have Sneaky make a stop over to The Spot. I wanna know what the fuck Big D and his fucking goons was up to tonight."

I don't even wait for All-nighter to say nothing else. I gotta find a way to get forty grand before the Don steps foot in this club. All the years, I been bootlegging, I ain't never got pinched. The one time, I use a new company and don't go with the boys, this shit fucking happens. Everything, from the order to the time of delivery, went through me. It was planned out so fucking perfectly. I didn't see this shit coming. How was I supposed to know? This shoulda been an easy fucking shipment.


	4. Johnny Boy's Indifference

_A/N: After having a discussion with Vera Roberts, I've made a decision. I want this piece to be as realistic and authentic as possible. Having said that, in the 1920s, racism was at an all time high. There was racism against EVERYONE. Because of this, I will use some language that will be considered derogatory to certain groups. It is not my intention to offend ANYONE; I do not harbor these beliefs personally, but it fits in the time and the mind-set of the characters. These words will not be used against any one person in particular, they will be used as a roll of the tongue. The characters say them without thinking anything about it or meaning any harm by it...it's just the way people talked. If you are offended, I am truly sorry; let me know and I will discontinue writing it this way. It is possible for me to do this and exclude that part of the story, but it is my belief that I would be taking away from the time period. _

_As I said before, each chapter will have a different narrator so you'll get to see a little more of what went down and what they're doing about it. They will all be the same, with the first half being a reflection and introduction of the character; a little background if you will. And the second half is the present interaction with other characters. _

_People have asked me who did the hit, but I can't tell you...it's a mystery. You have to read carefully to get the clues. With that, I hope you enjoy this chapter._

* * *

Johnny Boy's Indifference

Of all the nights for something to go wrong, it had to be the night I'm in charge. See, this is the thing I don't get, I been on this drop a hundred times and ain't nothing never went wrong. The one time, Big D puts me in charge, all hell breaks loose. But what can I do about it? Fuck it.

Oh…they call me Johnny Boy. I'm what Big D calls, nonchalant, whatever the fuck that means. If it means I don't give a fuck, then I guess that's what I am. I _don't_ give a fuck. And that don't make me a bad guy neither; not that I'd care if it did. See the way I look at it is this; I got the best fucking gig out there. I get to mingle at the club, fuck a different broad every night, hang out with my friends, cause some trouble and make a little pocket change all at the same time. What the fuck is there to complain about? The worrying and all that bullshit, I leave that to Candy; he worries enough for all of us.

Big D's having a fit cause he knows if Double V finds out about this shipment, he's gonna be wearing cement shoes. But that's what he gets for fucking with the mob. Between all of us, we got enough money and crew to do this shit on our own, but D's always looking for extra protection. You don't get in bed with a Don, if you don't expect to one day wake up with a fucking hole in your skull.

Now, don't get me wrong, Big D's like my brother; I known him all my life. When I was a kid, I ate dinner at his house almost every night. It had more to do with me fucking his sister than his mom's cooking, but, what can I do about it? I ain't never met a more honest Joe than Big D. That bastard would lie down in traffic for me and I would for him. I would for any of my crew. I don't have many friends, but the guys I hang with, I trust. Who I don't trust is fucking Double V. I understand the way the streets work, but that bastard would sell out his own mother to turn a profit.

Enough of this sentimental bullshit, I got things to do. You wanna know what I know, right? Well here it is. Things wasn't right from the moment we got to The Spot. As soon as we got there, Big D says he's putting me in charge. He says, I been on enough of these pickups that I can do this one without him. Now normally, Big D is always there, but I know that Double V's coming and he needs time to fix the books. He's gonna get his fucking face rearranged; serves him right, the pretty bastard.

I guess he put me in charge 'cause I'm more responsible. Really, who else would he get to do it? Fucking KO? That fucking palooka can't even count to three; much less make sure we're getting the quantity we're supposed to. Enigmatic? What the fuck kinda name is that anyway? That's some shit Candy made up. He says it means mysterious, well if that's what it means, just fucking call him mysterious. Anyway, Eni, he's too fucking quiet; you can't do business if you're fucking whispering. And Candy? Jesus, that fucking guy would nag the captain to turning the fucking boat around. So who's left, Smiley? If that bastard would stop grinning, maybe you could understand what the fuck he was talking about. No, I was the logical choice. But then this shit happens.

We all know that booze is illegal, so we take extra measures to make sure our shit gets to the club with no problems. We always meet the boat 20 miles off shore. We paddle out and load up, that way no nosy ass Harbor Master's there to stick his fucking nose in our business. Well tonight, the shit ain't work like that.

By the time me, Candy and Enigmatic get to the drop, we seen Smiley and KO waiting on us. We woulda been there sooner, but fucking KO stashed the paddle boat after the last shipment and that shit was impossible to find. I need to remember to kick his ass later on. Anyway, just like always, we leave Smiley and KO with the car. Normally, I stay behind with 'em, that way if shit jumps off on the shore, we can handle it. But since Big D ain't with us… me, Candy and Eni paddle out to the site. We take Enigmatic just in case they wanna start some shit on the water. He'll blow a hole in anything and Candy has to be there to talk to the Captain. That fucker can smell a setup a mile away.

Alright, so now we's at the drop off point, but there ain't no ship. We sitting there waiting and waiting and I for one don't do a lot of waiting. It ain't like I got nothing better to do, but fuck it. Just then, we get a signal from the boys at the car, so we paddle back and they say they seen lights heading down the road.

By the time we get to down to Pier 10, we see_ our_ fucking ship, docked like this shit is legal. I done already gave Enigmatic the go ahead to shoot whoever was driving that fucking boat. That's all we need, to get pinched by the fucking pigs. The boys was already on standby then we seen that somebody already beat us to it. The fucking Captain's dead. Enigmatic says that hole was caused by a Gat and then he starts crawling on the fucking ground looking at tracks, likes he's a fucking private dick. Fuck that, I don't crawl; besides, I need to see if anyone on that boat knows what the fuck is going on. I walked up and seen the bodies; it was a fucking massacre. Plus, now all of our shit's missing.

Well, I ain't gotta tell ya, when we get back to the car, the fucking door's open and the dough's gone. I swear, if I had to listen to Candy's big ass whine one more minute, I was gonna kill him myself. So that's when we went back and told Big D what was what. He's pissed, but fuck him; he's always mixed up in something. I'm sure before the night's over he'll get one of the girls to relieve his extra tension…pretty bastard.

So now, we gotta go back and try to find the booze and the loot. It's like looking for a needle in a haystack. But you know what? It ain't my booze or my money, so I don't really give a fuck.

* * *

"So what exactly are we looking for?" I never could read Smiley. I can't tell if he's in a good mood or not. He don't have no other emotions, just fucking smiles. 

I don't know what we're looking for, but Big D wants us to find something. "Just look around and shut the fuck up."

This shouldn't be too hard. We just gotta get the gear, and the bill of lading, then we can blow the ship and get back to the club. "KO, you go on the boat and check it out."

"Why I gotta go up there?" I swear he's a big fucking baby. You would think a mug that had to register his hands, wouldn't be scare of the fucking dark.

"Because I said so. Now get your big, stupid ass up there and see what you can find." Sometimes, you gotta talk to KO like he's retarded. He's a good kid though, but I think he took one too many punches to the head. "Eni, how much room you need for the charges?"

Enigmatic don't talk much, instead he puts up four fingers. I guess he needs four feet. I ain't never understood why he don't say nothing, but it ain't my place to worry about it. He does his job and I ain't got to listen to him flap his jaws, like with other fucking guys I hang with.

"Shit Johnny, looky what I found." There's that fucking smile again. I can't tell if it's a good smile or a bad one. But something in the way Smiley's eyes are dancing around tells me that it might be something we need. "Three fucking guesses who this belongs to."

I walk over and look at what he's looking at. Sure as I'm telling you this, there it is, bright as day. I don't how we missed it when we was here before, but right on the Captain, is everything we need to know. "Smiley, haul this fucker's body up to the boat. Grab what you can and get back here in ten minutes."

"Five." That's one thing I like about Enigmatic, when he do talk, he only says what's necessary. Plus, he lets me think out loud without interrupting every five minutes.

"See this what don't figure. Nobody knew about the shipment, so why the fuck would this boat be all the way down here?" I can't tell if Enigmatic is really listening or not, but I don't really care. I need to work through this out loud. "These beaners knew that they was off course and whoever stole the booze, knew that this boat would be here instead of where it was supposed to be." Enigmatic ain't never look up from his charges, but I can see him nodding his head. He's on the same page is as I am. "Only, if they was planning on just taking the shipment, why kill the crew?" I need another cigarette. The smoke helps me think clearer. "And who the fuck drops a cufflink? Them shits don't just pop off, that was fucking deliberate." Just as I go to throw my butt down, I see more butts already on the ground. "Eni, take a look at this shit." A diamond cufflink don't sound like much and it could belong to anyone, but then we see Carltons all over the fucking place, I got a pretty good idea of who was here. Most mugs smoke Lucky Strikes or Winstons or roll their own, ain't too many that smoke Carltons and one mug sticks out in my mind.

"It was a double cross." For a man that don't say much, Enigmatic says all he needs to say. It makes perfect sense. Now all we gotta find out is, why.

My whistle is loud; loud enough to get KO and Smiley off the boat. They got two carts full of shit and Smiley's waving the fucking bill of lading. Sometimes, I think he's face is gonna split in half with that fucking smile of his. "We got the shit. Let's go."

As soon as they make it down the ramp, Smiley hands me the one key to all this shit; this shipment was twice as big as it shoulda been. Unless Big D, was planning on selling the hooch somewhere else besides The Spot, something ain't right. "We been set up boys. And this shit goes back further than this fucking dock." I can tell they don't know what I'm talking about, but this ain't for me to discuss with them. This ain't even none of _my_ fucking business. My orders is simple; find out who and take 'em out. Now I gotta clue, but before we go strolling in there, we need a few more answers. I know who was at Pier 10, but I don't know when or why.

I look over at Enigmatic and nod my head; if nothing else he's real good at his job. Fucking Smiley and KO is just having a fucking field day watching that ship go up in a million pieces. "Let's go." I know it's only a matter of time before the fucking cops is crawling all over this dock and I ain't in the mood to deal with no fucking flat foots tonight. And while Smiley and KO is walking back to the car, I watch how careful-like Enigmatic packs up his gear. "You know what you need to do."

He don't answer, he just nods. Big D wants answers and he's gonna get 'em. We're getting to the bottom of this shit…tonight.

But this shit ain't my fault and I don't take the blame for no one. Even if it happened on my watch, fuck it. I didn't know it would go down like this. But that's what happens when you fuck with the big boys, even if it was a routine shipment.


	5. Enigmatic Speaks

Enigmatic Speaks

I only say somethin' when I got somethin' to say. The guys is always talkin', so there ain't much for me to talk about. Most times, they say what I'm thinkin' anyway. I don't know…I'm not a private person or nothin', it's just…why I gotta talk? Besides, I'm usually plannin' out how I can adjust the barrel on my piece. I been toyin' with sawin' down my double barrel and adjustin' the handle, so it don't dig in my shoulder the way it's been. I got other shit on my mind besides talkin'.

I don't wanna tell you my name, cause I don't know you that well. If I told you my real name, you're liable to turn me in. The last time I checked, the bounty on my head was ten thousand dollars. Ten…thousand…dollars; that's a fuckin' insult. I done way more shit than ten grand worth. But I'ma wait it out. I know one day, they'll catch up with all the dirt I done and when it gets to a million; I'll be a fuckin' legend. And who knows, maybe you can write a book about this little meetin' and say, 'I knew him way back when'. But know this, if you collect the bounty, sleep with one eye open. Cause you best believe, I'll be comin' through your window to collect my share.

For the sake of this conversation, we'll say my name is Enigmatic; that's what everybody calls me anyway. The guys all say it's because they can't figure me out. They think I'm hidin' somethin'. I ain't got nothin' to hide, I do what I do and I get paid real good for it. See, I like guns, ammo, knives, and explosives…anythin' that can cause damage. I don't know why, just always been like this, I guess.

I gotta record that keeps followin' me and really it ain't my fault. So I may have killed a guy…or two, but really, they had it comin'. I was mindin' my own fuckin' business and they had to go get caught up in the shit that I was mixed up in. So, I headed North, but then I got into some more shit and well, it seemed like every state I crossed, I had to kill a few more people. But I wasn't alone. I came up here with my brother; they call him Moves, and my best friends, Babyface and Gregory Knuckles. You don't know Knuckles; he's doin' a bid in Alcatraz. He got pinched for some bullshit; them charges was fixed.

I met Smiley 'bout ten years ago. We came up here from Carolina and ended up in the same neighborhood as the rest of the guys. They ain't talk to me much, mainly because I ain't never talk to them. But one day, I seen these guys fuckin' with Smiley and it pissed me off. You ain't never seen a zip gun rip the back of a man's head off before, have you? I made it myself…it was fuckin' beautiful. See, what I did was stuffed the chamber with cork and that way, instead of bullets, I used nails. You ever heard a nail come firin' outta pistol? It makes this pingin' sound…it ain't like nothin' you ever heard. But the best thing is, fuckin' nails can take off half a skull at point blank range. Them fuckin' guys didn't know what hit 'em.

Next thing I know, I'm hangin' with the boys and they ask me to join their crew. Moves and Face already got hooked up with Lucky Layfield and his boys, so I figured, why not? I ain't never liked Lucky and I don't really know why. See, Big D gotta style to him, that Lucky don't got. D knows how to talk to people so they listen and when they don't, my Colt makes 'em fuckin' listen. But Lucky? He gives too many fuckin' chances. I couldn't hang with him; I like to shoot shit too much for that. If I was in his crew, I probably would never get to pull out my piece. And really, what's the point of being strapped, if you can't pull it out?

Since I really don't feel like going through all this anyway, how 'bout I tell you what I know? We was told to pick up the shipment and come back to the club. Only there wasn't no shipment and a lot of fuckin' people got killed. That's it…that's all I know.

I don't speak on things I don't know 'bout, so I can't say what went down. But I _can_ tell you 'bout the fuckin' tools they used. This shit is sweet. Whoever hit that Captain used a Gatlin'. Now if you ain't into heavy artillery, you don't understand what that means. The Gat is a BIG fuckin' gun. It's rare and highly illegal if you ain't in the military. Any gun collector worth his salt wants to get his fuckin' hands on a Gat. Just so happens that I own two of 'em, but nobody needs to know 'bout that, understand? When I make it famous, you can put that in your little book, but until then you just keep quiet. Now, the Gat is like the granddaddy of all machine guns. It's fuckin' huge and the bullets look like cannons. This ain't the type of gun you pull out to shoot cans with, this the kinda gun you use when you wanna destroy some shit. It sits on this platform, with these two big wheels and you gotta push it around, cause it's so heavy from the motor inside. It's the most beautiful piece of hardware out there.

Well, when I seen the size of the hole in that Captain, right away I got a hard-on. Then I seen the fuckin' tracks from the wheels, I swear it was like a wet dream. What I'm surprised at, is nobody heard nothin'. A Gat sounds like an explosion. How the fuck do you miss that? Whoever these guys were, they ain't hearin' too good right now.

From the looks of the rest of the crew, they was shot by Tommy's. I like the Tommy Gun, it's got some kick. But because it ain't got no clip and the bullets just spin up into the chamber, the fuckin' barrel's always jammin' and you gotta reload too often. Automatics go through a ton of bullets, especially if you got heavy finger. The Tommy's what KO prefers, but I could take it or leave it. The automatics, they're good when you gotta put a lot of people down in a little bit of time. But if I gotta rush, what's the point? I can't enjoy it, if it's over that quick. I prefer the steel frame Colt .45. It's easy to handle, it's a semi, so I ain't gotta reload all the time, and because the barrel's so fuckin' long, them bullets can travel over 200 feet. It's a classic; it makes a statement.

See, this is why I don't talk. My train of thought gets all fucked up when I start talkin' about tools. So back to the story; Big D wanted us to find out who hit the ship. I didn't really care, but he said I could blow the boat up, so I was happy. Johnny Boy found a cufflink and some cigarette butts, I ain't even notice 'em because I was concentratin' on gettin' the biggest boom when I blew that ship to smithereens. But it wasn't 'til I was packin' up my shit did I notice somethin'. There were .38 caliber shells in the sand. That means whoever did this job, had a Gat, Tommys _and_ they're toting fuckin' semi-automatics. These guys were armed and lookin' to kill anythin' that moved.

Now we gotta find 'em, get back the booze and the loot and then I get to kill somethin'. I just hope it ain't gotta be in that order.

* * *

"Classics." I know her voice right away. It's high pitched and soft, like a little girl's. 

"Kelly Kelly?" I know it's her, but I love it when she squeals my name. I don't know why I say I her name twice. I just like the sound of it.

"Eni? Is that you?" You know, when Johnny calls me Eni it's get on my nerves. But when Kelly says it, I don't mind so much.

I can't help but to smile. "It's me baby. I ain't know you was workin' tonight." I'm the one that got her the job at Classics. I made sure that she works the bookstore; I don't trust havin' her in the club. If I ever found out that one of 'em guys put their hands on her…I'd be wanted in Boston, too. I coulda got her a job at The Spot, but, I ain't want her to have to go through D's interviewin' process. I'd hate to have to kill him.

"Well maybe if you came home once in awhile, you'd know things." I can hear a bunch of commotion in the background. Somethin's goin' on at Classics tonight. "Are you coming home tonight, baby? I miss you."

"We'll see." I miss her too. I ain't been home in three days. Killin' people is fuckin' time consumin'. "Kelly Kelly, when you get home, lock all the windows and the doors and you know that gun I got ya?"

I love when she giggles. "The little one…with the pearl handle?" It was a birthday present.

"That's the one. Put that under your pillow and you shoot at anythin' you hear movin'." It's really not that big a deal. It's a Derringer for God's sake, but, it's effective. It's small enough to fit in her hand, plus, she really likes the handle. I don't really know if she knows how to aim, but it's already loaded and luckily it's a double barrel and I modified it so the bullets split. I wanna make sure my girl's safe.

"What's going on, Eni? Are you in some kinda trouble?" Kelly's always worried 'bout me. I can tell by her tone of voice that she's poutin'. I love it when she pouts. "What if what I'm shooting at is you?"

"You won't hear me baby." I look over and see Johnny nod his head at me. I'd love to talk to Kelly some more, but we got a job to do. If I actually wanna get home and get some, I gotta do it. "Hey Kelly? Is Face around?"

"Yeah…he just walked in." I hear her call his name. She's got her hand over the receiver, I can tell by how muffled everythin' sounds. "Hey Eni…I love you."

"I love you too, baby. Now let me talk to Face." Me and Face go way back. Even though him and Moves work for a different club and D and Lucky hate each other, that don't change nothin' between us. They don't talk about their work, I don't talk about mine. I can't imagine puttin' a bullet in Babyface's head, but I would…no mistake about it.

"Yeah?" Face sounds rushed. This ain't normal for him. He's usually a smooth talker.

This conversation's gonna be quick. I don't like to talk. "It's me. Y'all been out tonight?"

"We had some trouble." Face is a real honest guy, with me anyway. He might like the sound of his own voice, but he knows I ain't gonna listen but for so long. So when we talk, we only say what's important.

"Us too."

There's a silence on the phone and then Face gets real low. "Watch your back."

"You too." I know right away, somebody's already watchin' us. Face wouldn't warn me unless somethin' big was about to go down. "Hey Face?"

"Yeah?"

"Make sure my girl gets home safe." I ain't got nothin' else to say. He done told me all I need to know.

"You got it." Face hangs up and I'm standin' there tryin' to piece together everythin' he just said. It might not sound like much, but sometimes the most important things ain't never talked about.

As soon as I hang up, I turn around and fuckin' KO's standin' in my face. I hate when he does that. It's like he thinks he needs to check up on me. He may have steel hands, but I got a piece of steel.

"Who was you talking to?" I'm tryin' to be patient and ignore him. I'm sure he ain't playin' with a full deck of cards, but I don't like to be questioned. The only thing I can do is look at KO. I don't say nothin', instead I walk away. But I'll be God damned if this motherfucker don't put his hand on my shoulder. "I asked you a question." KO narrows his eyes and walks closer to me. Out the corner of my eye, I see his arm rear back. Now we both know that KO wants to die. Before he can even get his fist balled, I got the barrel of my Colt under his chin. "Shit, Eni…why you always gotta pull your gun out on me for?"

As soon as I cock the Colt and hear that bullet enter the chamber, I can feel a tingle in my trousers. I swear hearin' that gun is like hearin' Kelly scream my name. "Don't touch me." It always happens like this. Everyday, he touches me and everyday I pull my gun on him. He should know by now, that I don't like to be touched.

"Look Johnny. Enigmatic's gonna kill KO." I can't really see Smiley's face, but I can count every one of his fuckin' teeth. He's always smilin'. I bet you, if I shot him, he'd still be fuckin' smilin'.

I can see a part of Johnny's face from the match he strikes. He smokes way too much. "Eni…if you kill him, you gotta clean up the mess." I watch Johnny get in the car. He don't care if I kill KO or not, and Smiley's too busy laughin' to try to save him.

I hate havin' to uncock my gun, it's a let down. But Johnny's right. I ain't got time to clean KO's skull off my clothes _and_ dump the body. He got lucky. "I'ma kill you tomorrow." Everyday it's the same. I pull out my gun on KO, then I have to put it away and threaten to kill him another day. Really, I don't wanna kill KO; I like KO, as long as he don't touch me. I don't wanna kill none of my guys, I trust 'em; but I would. If nothin' else, I love to smell the powder on my hands.

I walk back to the car and slide in the seat next to Johnny. "You do it?" There ain't too many people that know about me and Kelly and even fewer know about my connection to Moves and Face. But I trust Johnny, so he knows.

I lean back against the seat and sigh. "Yeah." I motion my head toward the road. "The Spot...we need Candy." Candy's real good at smellin' a set up. Plus, I need more ammo and a bigger fuckin' gun. If this is goin' down the way I think, I ain't strapped enough.

All I wanted to do tonight was shoot somebody and make love to my girl. But it ain't workin' out that way. It's gonna be a long night and when I find out who fucked up my plans, I'ma kill 'em twice. This is bullshit. This shoulda been a routine shipment.


	6. Babyface's Smooth Talk

Babyface's Sweet Talk

How you doin'? I don't recall ever meetin' you before? What's your name? I like that. You have a beautiful smile, you know that? It really brings out your eyes.

I know you brought me here to talk about what happened tonight, but I'd much rather talk to you; ya know, get to know you a little better. There it is…there's that blush I wanted to see. Oh this? Don't mind this. I always flick my lighter, it helps me concentrate. I know we just met and all, but, I can tell there's somethin' special 'bout you. There's somethin' 'bout you that I definitely wanna get to know. Maybe we could be friends; you do have friends don't you?

They call me Babyface, but you can call me anythin' you want.

Alright…I'll cut the shit for right now. But I'm serious about gettin' to know you better, but, we can take this as slow as you please. How 'bout this…if I tell you what you wanna know, will you have a drink with me later? You will? Alright then, let's start from the beginnin'.

I joined Lucky Layfield's crew cause I have certain talents. I can talk to people; just like I'm talkin' to you. Somehow, I just know what folks wanna hear, but I wouldn't do that to you. I'm gonna be honest with you. I got a reputation with the boys of being a bull shitter. I'll take that charge, but, sometimes a little sweet talk will get you a long way.

Besides, lookin' at me, who wouldn't believe everythin' comin' out of my mouth? My face is blessin' as much as it is a curse. I can't tell you how much trouble I get out of, because I look like a kid. Oh yeah, blonde hair, big blue eyes, dimples…please. My looks have saved my neck more times than I can count. Judges take one look at me and think I can do no wrong.

You wouldn't guess it, but, for some reason, I got this thing with fire. I do; I don't know why. I'm sure I ain't gotta tell ya, that I done got in some trouble from settin' a few fires. But it wasn't like I was tryin' to burn nothin' down, I was just expressin' my artistic abilities. You ain't really buyin' that one are ya? Me neither, I gotta work on it. The truth is I just like the colors. You know, Enigmatic is an artist and ever since we was kids, he been tryin' to teach me about colors. Well one day, I really noticed the different colors in fire and I was hooked. Did you know that alcohol is an accelerant? You can get at least fourteen different color patterns from usin' a bottle of Rum, where gasoline only gives you eight. It's the little things that I appreciate.

I also appreciate the ladies, but they get me in trouble. For some reason they love me. And I don't mean, love me…I mean LOVE me. It's almost like I'm hexed or somethin'. I can meet a girl and just talk, just like we're talkin' now, then suddenly, she's in my bed. And I don't have a problem with that, but, I think I'm too nice to 'em or somethin', because they won't go away after. They're always callin' me or sendin' me flowers. I can't walk in a room and blend in, because sure as hell, I'm gonna spot one of my girls. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm always a gentleman. If nothin' else, I never go to sleep alone. And I don't wanna sound like it's all bad, neither. It's got its perks. I can usually get the girls to give me practically anythin' I want; combinations to safes, keys to their husband's offices, life savin's…anythin'.

So earlier tonight Lucky called us and told us to meet the boat for a shipment. It seemed real strange cause we usually get shipments on Mondays, but for some reason we had one today. Now, I didn't find out until later that Lucky changed distributors. It just so happens that it's the same folks that The Spot uses. Right away, I knew that this was a bad idea. First off, if Bugsy found out, he'd kill Lucky. Bugsy thinks anythin' affiliated with Double V is low class. He hates that man with a passion. Plus, Bugsy don't trust Lucky. He thinks we don't know, but, we hear the way he's always threatenin' to take him out. The second problem we had was if we showed up while Big D's gang was there, I'd have to kill my best friend.

Well not only were we pickin' up a shipment on the wrong day from some new guys, but Lucky wasn't goin' with us. Not that I really minded. Don't get me wrong, Lucky means well, but, he really ain't gotta clue how this is done. He's always so nervous and lookin' around. I think it's cause he's got some side deals workin' that he don't want no one to know about. But I ain't totally sure, so don't quote me on that one.

Ok, so it was me and All-nighter together in the car and we woulda been to the drop on time, except I had to get All-nighter from this dame's house. Of course when I knocked on the door, me and her get into this conversation, then All-nighter gets all pissy with me. I don't know why we have this competition. We don't even like the same type of women, but it always happens that way. Anyway, we met the truck with Taker, Moves and Sneaky there. Their orders were to load the truck and take the shipment back before any cops could show up and ask questions. I usually hang out after the guys leave, because that's my job. I talk to the cops. The other guys ain't too good with talkin' to authority figures, so I stick around to smooth things over.

When we get to the ship, it's too quiet. We see the Captain on the ground, and right away Taker goes for his gun. As soon as we get on the boat, they're throwin' bullets at us. I wasn't in the mood to get blood on my new suit, so I may have had a few cocktails in my hand and I may have lit 'em. It really wasn't enough to cause an explosion, but it was enough to put some distance between us and whoever was shootin'. While the guys was keepin' 'em busy, I managed to crawl away to the fuel tank. If they wanted to play, I was goin' to show them how we play back home. But it was just my luck that by time I had everythin' set to light that ship up like a candle, all the shootin' stopped and All-nighter's callin' me to tell me not to do it.

It ain't the first time, I ever been told not to go ahead and set somethin' on fire. But I never got to blow up a boat before, so to say that I was disappointed ain't a strong enough a word. Well, on my way back to the guys, I noticed something lyin' on the floor. Now I know a scarf don't sound like much, but, this wasn't no ordinary scarf. It was silk and it's some Joe's initial on it, so right away that tells me whoever this Joe was, had some serious money. I take the scarf and head back, but when I get there, it's all smoky. Now I'm doubly pissed, because not only did I not get to light up that boat, but I done missed the two fires I set. But I couldn't concentrate on the that, because the boys tell me the money's gone.

Taker took it upon himself to raid the boat. He took some fishin' gear and some other stuff, then goes around and steals all the wallets from the crew. Moves takes one look outside, and tells us we gotta go because somebody's watchin' us. Sneaky done told him, that he seen the bill of ladin' and the shipment was registered to The Spot, but it's twice as big as it shoulda been.

So we drive to a phone and All-nighter calls Lucky. And so, I guess you can figure out what I gotta do tonight. We gotta get a plan together, get back the booze, and the money and kill the guys that did the hit. Maybe if I'm lucky, I'll get to light somethin' on fire too.

Hopefully it won't take too long, cause you promised me a drink and I'm holdin' you to it.

I sit down right in front of Lucky's desk and take out my lighter. I just like to click it, make a spark and close it, after the flame comes up. You will never see me without my lighter, it helps me think. "Alright Lucky, I gotta idea. We can tell Bugsy that the Feds came down and…" I hate it when Lucky cuts me off. He always tells me that I gotta come up with somethin' to say, but as soon as I start tellin' him what it is, he cuts me off.

I notice how Lucky keeps lookin' past us and out the door of his office. "Face, put that fucking lighter away. That's all I need for you to burn this joint down." Lucky's real nervous, I can tell by the way he's twirlin' that pen in his hand. "Don't worry about Bugsy. I got it under control. I was able to buy yous guys a few hours. Now I need yous to get your asses in gear and find out who the fuck hit us."

* * *

"What you mean, buy us some time? What you done cooked up now?" Moves is the one that comes up with the plans. He ain't comfortable with whatever Lucky done came up with, because he wasn't involved. "How you know this is gonna work?"

Lucky don't answer because the phone rings. "Yeah…send them in." Now I know somethin's up, because Kelly knows better than to interrupt when Lucky's meetin' with all of us. "I got some business to take care of. Taker…you stay here and watch the door. I want the rest of yous to get Sneaky and find out what the fuck happened. I don't care you gotta do, but don't show your sorry asses back in this fucking joint, unless you got my booze and Bugsy's money. You got it? Now get the fuck out."

Just as I start to stand, I notice Lucky lookin' at All-nighter, then he nods his head. I make my way over to Kelly and I see who she's lookin' at. "Good evenin' gentlemen." I tip my hat to 'em to make 'em feel extra special. Now I know why Lucky gave All-nighter the signal, the fuckin' Feds is here and I know that we ain't gonna see All-nighter's ass again until the morning. It's up to the rest of us to piece this shit together.

"Fuck you, you little motherfucker." That's what that fuckin' pig we call Headhunter says to me.

I smile at the Headhunter and nod. I don't let him get to me; instead, I keep sparkin' up my gold lighter. I can't find the silver one, but the gold one works just as good. "Well sir, that might hurt a little, but I'm always up for somethin' new."

Just before he can charge at me, I see Lucky standin' in the doorway. "Hunter, Bishop…"

Headhunter leans in and looks at me. "I'm gonna find something to bust your little ass for. And when I do, them baby blues ain't gonna be able to save you."

"Well fuck you very much, sir." I answer with a smile.

Me and Kelly stand at her desk watchin' these fuckin' Feds walk into Lucky's office. This ain't right, I need to talk to Moves. "I'll be back by midnight to take you home."

"I don't need no babysitter." Kelly thinks she's tough, but she ain't.

I shrug. "I know, doll face, but Eni asked me to see you home."

"Face…" Kelly looks real serious. "Make sure he don't get hurt."

As soon as I get in the car, Moves looks over at me and shakes his head. "Put the fuckin' lighter away, will ya?" He scratches his head as he looks back at the club. "Somethin' big's goin' down. Did you notice that Bishop and Headhunter had briefcases with 'em? When you ever known either of them fuckers to walk in this joint with a briefcase? They usually walk out with one. And did you see Lucky signal All-nighter?"

"I seen it." All-nighter's tappin' Headhunter's missus. Apparently Lucky wants some information, so he sent All-nighter to collect it. "We need to pick up Sneaky. Taker's gonna meet us at ship later on. We gotta find out who this scarf belongs to and what Lucky done cooked up with the Feds."

Moves nods. I know he's already two steps ahead of me. "Don't forget these." He pulls out a gold money clip, that I ain't know he had. "Sneaky found it. He gave it to me for safe keepin'." Then he points to the bag on the floor. "And those are the wallets that Taker got. We need to lay all this shit out, so we can see what the fuck happened and who the fuck we're dealin' with."

Too much shit is goin' on. We need to get a plan together and fast. I know how Bugsy works and if we don't come back with no answers and no product, we're all lookin' at getting' capped.

I ain't gonna lie; I'm too cute to die, so I'm ready to solve this shit, like yesterday. This is seriously puttin' a cramp in my style. It shoulda been a normal night. Who knew these guys were gonna fuck up a regular shipment?


	7. Kelly's Observation

_A/N: Now I know we're a few chapters in and you probably don't know what's going on, but I do. There are clues spread throughout and between each of the crews and the side characters, hopefully you'll start to get a hint. _

_I threw you a bone with one...see if you can catch it._

* * *

Kelly's Observation 

Hey…how ya doing? I ain't got a lotta time to do this, so I gotta make this real quick, ok?

My name is Kelly and I work at Classics, but not the in club; upstairs in the bookstore. See, where my desk is, I'm right outside of Mr. Lucky Layfield's office, so I see everything. And, most times, he leaves his door open, so I hear it all too. I don't usually say nothing about the things I hear, but, I'm always keeping my ears open just in case.

I really hate being upstairs; down in the club is where all the action is. I know most of the girls that work down there and they make really good tips. But I gotta stay at this stupid desk. See, my boyfriend, Eni, got me this job. He says he ain't want me to work with him at The Spot because he don't trust that his boss wouldn't try nothing with me. That's the same reason that he don't want me to work in the club; he don't trust the people that come in here either. He says it's cause I'm so pretty and all these guys wanna take advantage of me. I told him; he's the only guy I got eyes for, but, he says he'll do anything to keep me safe. So what can I do? Say no? If you seen him, you'd know exactly why I'd do anything he asked.

I don't know if you know my guy, but my Eni, is the bee's knees. He's so cute and he got these amazing green eyes. And he's real sweet; he's always looking out for me and trying to keep me away from his business. He always says that he don't want me to get involved because he's afraid I'm gonna get hurt. He thinks I don't know what he does. I know he kills people, even if he tries to act like he's just an average Joe. Please don't think that because he's a hit man that he's a bad person. Eni is the sweetest, nicest guy I ever met and he treats me real good.

His friends all say that he's quiet; that ain't true. When we're home, sometimes, I wanna pay him to shut up. He's got this really cute accent because he's from down south and everything he says is real slow and drawn out…and I love that he don't say the ends of his words. He's always teasing me, saying I talk funny because I was raised here in Boston, but when he talks, it makes me giggle. Everything Eni does makes me giggle. I miss him. I don't really care what Big D asks him to do, what I care about is he don't come home that often. I ain't seen him in three days; that's a real long time. I love him a whole lot and I worry about him.

Ok, so I don't know everything but I know it's something real big. Now normally, I wouldn't care about what Mr. Layfield and the guys got going on, but things just don't feel right. Too much stuff is happening. It all started when I came in tonight. I thought Eni woulda been home, so I made supper, but then he didn't call, so I just left the food on the stove and caught a taxi to work. I shoulda known then something was wrong, because, if Eni don't take me to work, he _always _makes sure Moves or Face brings me. He don't trust the taxi drivers either.

So anyway, I get here and everything's normal. I wasn't doing much…filing my nails and reading a book on Europe. Whenever Eni asks me to marry him, I wanna go to Europe for our honeymoon, so I'm trying to find out as much as I can on the place. Well, all of a sudden the phone in Mr. Layfield's office rings. Right away I look up from my book because something's wrong. His private phone never rings. I can't see his desk from mine, but, I could tell by his tone of voice he was pissed. All I heard was him cursing and telling the guys to get their asses back here. Truthfully, I didn't think too much of it. It's not the first time I heard him curse at them; they all curse at each other. It's hard to know if they even like each other they way the talk. But, it was the first time I heard him sound like that, especially on _that_ phone.

It seemed like everything was fine after that, but then I noticed that the lines on the other phone kept lighting up too. Mr. Layfield was making a bunch of calls. I know that ain't really news. If you own a store and a club, you gotta call people, but at that time of night? Only, I didn't get to listen because Eni called me. That wasn't strange… he calls me every night, but, what he said to me was. He told me that when I get home to lock up and sleep with the gun under my pillow. See, Eni bought me this gun for my birthday cause he says I needed protection when ain't there, but he ain't never once asked me to sleep with it under my pillow before. Right away I knew something was wrong. I might not be that smart, but, for Mr. Layfield to get a call on his private line and then for Eni to call right after and tell me to be careful…they got themselves in the same trouble. Only, I can't figure what that is.

As if that ain't enough, the night gets stranger... Eni asks to speak to Face. Eni don't _ever_ talk to Face at work. Face comes over every week on Thursdays and him and Eni do whatever it is they do. They don't talk to each other outside of home. Of course, Face won't tell me what's going on, so I decided I was gonna pay more attention and find out myself.

When the guys all go back to Mr. Layfield's office, I can hear Mr. Layfield yelling at 'em. And just as I'm getting a good earful, these two Federal Agents walk in. Agent Helmsley and Agent Michaels, they always come here. They come every week on Tuesday, because Classics usually gets a delivery on Monday. But today ain't Tuesday. And what I can't figure is why they both got briefcases. They acted normal though, they always try to pick me up…if Eni ever found out; they would be some dead cops.

Mr. Layfield only had the guys in his office for a few minutes, then suddenly All-nighter leaves out. I wonder why whenever those Federal guys come around, All-nighter leaves? He musta done something and he don't want them to see him. Anyway, Face came out and started talking to 'em. I noticed that Face is using a gold lighter, he_ always_ has a silver one. That might not sound like much, but it could be important. Well, Mr. Layfield invites them in his office. Now I been working here for two years and I ain't never seen him invite them in. They usually just barge in, no matter if I say he's busy or not.

Ok, so Face tells me he's coming back to pick me up, which lets me know that Eni ain't coming home again tonight. I asked Face to make sure that Eni don't get hurt and he didn't say nothing to reassure me that Eni wasn't in trouble. I tried calling The Spot, but Big D said that Eni wasn't there. Now I'm really worried.

The strangest thing though is the conversation that Mr. Layfield had with those Federal guys. He closed the door, but, I hit the intercom button. Hey, I gotta watch out for my guy and whatever this is, it involves him. Well, I start hearing Agent Helmsley tell Mr. Layfield that he's got 48 hours to give him back the money plus interest or he's gonna take the club. They said some other stuff which wasn't as juicy as that, so it ain't really important. But now I got questions, why would Mr. Layfield be taking money from the Feds? And why would he be putting up Classics as collateral?

There's something really big going on and I have no idea what it is. I got this sinking feeling in my gut that this is gonna be real bad.

* * *

"Thanks for calling the Spot. Candice speaking." I known Candice for years. We grew up in the same neighborhood. She dances at The Spot and they all call her Lollipop. Eni says, it's because she likes to lick…just like a lollipop. I told him that was fucking disgusting and if I ever hear about her licking _anything_ on him, he won't be the only killer in the family. 

"Can…it's me, Kelly." I gotta make this quick, because I don't know how long Mr. Layfield is gonna be downstairs or when the boys will get back. "Have you seen Eni? I gotta talk to him."

There's a lot of noise in the background. I guess The Spot is having a real good night. "No, I ain't seen him for a few hours. What's up doll?"

"I dunno know, something ain't right. Did you notice anything strange happening over there tonight?" If nothing else, Candice and I watch each other's backs. See looks out for Eni for me and I tell her what I hear from Eni about Big D. Candice and Big D ain't really together, but she's as close to a steady that he'll probably ever get.

It gets quiet on her end of the phone and I can still hear her moving around. I guess she's going to another room so she can talk. "I don't know for sure what's going on, but something strange is happening over here too. When the guys got back, Big D was so mad. Stacy said that they was all secretive when she walked in the room and then Big D asked us to entertain Double V for awhile. It took him about twenty minutes to come out. Double V was pissed. But I noticed that the other guys left out and only Candy stayed behind."

"Did you hear anything?" This is some good information, but I don't know what to do with it.

"Only Double V saying something about taking the club from Big D. He said he was fucking up. I don't know what that means; I can't see where D's done nothing wrong." I can hear Candice say something to somebody else. I know she's gotta get back to work. "And Kelly…this is really strange. When I went to D's office later, he didn't want anything."

"Nothing?"

"Not to fool around or nothing. That ain't like him." I known Big D for a little while and Candice is right, that ain't like him at all. "And why is Sneaky here?"

"What? Sneaky should be out with the other guys."

"No…he's here. I seen him snooping around when Big D and Candy was meeting with Double V." I can tell Candice knows something's wrong too. "Are you having some trouble over there?"

"The Feds were here and they gave Mr. Layfield money. They're talking about taking the club from him if he don't pay 'em back." Between me and the rest of the girls, we'll solve this before either crew does. We may gossip, but we get to the bottom of things.

"How much money?"

"Forty grand." I ain't never seen forty grand before. That's like a million dollars to me.

"Well Double V was pissed about twenty grand. I wonder what all that money was for?" Candice is tapping her finger against the phone. I hate when she does that.

I can hear Mr. Layfield's voice coming up the stairs. "Can…I gotta go. Do me a favor, have the other girls keep their ears open and call me if you hear anything good. If you see Eni, tell him I need to talk to him."

"You got it. And Kel, you tell me if that rat bastard Lucky says anything about Big D." Candice sounds like a dreamy school girl when she says his name.

I shake my head. D's nice and all, but I don't see what she sees in him. He's sleeping with half the girls that work for him. "What's with you guys anyway?"

"I dunno. We got an arrangement." I can tell she ain't too happy about it. Poor girl; I wish she could find someone nice like my Eni.

I see Mr. Layfield walk toward me, so I know I gotta hang up. "I gotta go, bye." I whisper real soft-like to Candice.

"Kelly, hold all my calls and no visitors. I don't wanna see no one." He says that but at the same time he's pulling Maryse in his office. They call her Frenchy and believe me it ain't cause she's from Canada.

I turn around and see Bugsy and his bodyguard standing at my desk. I don't like Bugsy, but Big Kev's ok. He's nice to me. I tell ya, if Bugsy wasn't such a snappy dresser, I wouldn't give him the time of day. "Hey Mr. Jarrett. Can I help you?"

I hate when he looks around the place with his nose up in the air. He thinks he's better than us. "Where's Lucky, Blondie?"

I watch him, the way he rests his elbows on my desk and leans over so he's real close to my face. He smells like booze. "Those is real nice cufflinks you got on. How many diamonds are in there?" I know exactly how many are in there, I bought Eni diamond cufflinks just like his for Christmas, but I gotta make small talk.

"More than you'll ever afford. Now quick stalling and tell Lucky to get his ass out here." He's so rude.

Big Kev leans in close to me and smiles. "Please?" At least one of them knows how to talk to a lady.

I go over to the door and knock real soft, then I push it open. I should never have to see what Frenchy was doing to Mr. Layfield. "Mr. Layfield… Bugsy's out front."

He moves like his ass is on fire, pushing Frenchy out the back door before he walks out to Bugsy. Well, they close the door and Big Kev is standing by my desk, so I can't use the intercom. Now I won't know what else is going on, but I definitely heard the word shipment come outta Lucky's mouth.

Something went wrong and somehow both crews are involved. So what went wrong? Why is everyone on edge and why I gotta sleep with a gun? All I wanted to do tonight was to eat supper with my guy and cuddle up with him in front of the fireplace. But from the little bit that me and Candice talked about, that ain't gonna happen. This is gonna be a long night and I hope everyone makes it out ok.

I ain't totally sure, but, it sounds like somebody messed up this shipment.


	8. Sweet Candy Kane

_A/N: Hey there...sorry it took so long to post this chapter; I was having trouble deciding on which character to talk to next. _

_Ok, so like I said before there are clues all through this thing. But from PM's and reviews, I didn't think I did a good job at revealing them. So, I read this to my 12 year old niece (I took out the bad words) and she caught them, and her theory was pretty dead on. I'm not saying the clues are easy to find, but, they're in there, you just have to pay attention to them. Every character only says EXACTLY what they need to say. Every piece of information is important. They tell you enough that you should start to see what really went down. _

_Ok, enough of this...I swear I gotta stop talking with this accent while I write this... _

* * *

Sweet Candy Kane

I don't really know why I'm here…but Big D's says I gotta do this, so I'ma do it. Now, I don't know what you heard, but I guarantee you it ain't the truth and if it is it ain't the whole story. See, most people is only out for two things: money and power. The people with the money, they lied to get it. The people with the power, they lie to keep it. And if you meet a Joe with both, well, just know that you're being lied to all the fucking time. I don't trust most people, they all got ulterior motives…well, that ain't true. I trust my boys, I trust my boss and I trust my instincts; what else is there?

I'm sure Big D's done already told you who I am. They call me Candy, but my real name is Kane. All the guys say I'm sweet; I don't see nothing wrong with being sweet. It just don't make sense to go killing up people if you ain't even sure if they the right ones. That's why D keeps me around; I done saved his ass from a lot of trouble. He don't always think before he acts. Like this plan of his to take out the Feds…fucking stupid. I told him, ain't no way we can get away with that and if we try we all get the death penalty. For my advice, you would think I'd get a 'thank you' or a 'you're right Candy'… fuck that; alls I got was another fucking assignment. I don't mean to sound ungrateful or nothing, but, sometimes, I'd just wanna be appreciated. You think this shit is easy? I gotta do all the thinking for five mugs. Five guys with five different personalities and five bigger egos; I gotta figure out what's best for all of 'em. Sometimes, this gig is a fucking headache.

Take D for example. He got a lot of shit with him. First off, he's gotta stop messing with those broads; if the mob don't kill him, a jealous husband will. Besides that, he's got too much shit in the works, so I watch his fucking back like a hawk. Then there's Enigmatic. He don't really care about who did what, only if he can shoot at it. I tell ya, that guy is gonna be looking at the electric chair if he don't cool it. I usually make sure I find out _everything_ about a problem before I take it to him. I couldn't sleep at night knowing some Johnny Law got popped cause I gave Eni some faulty information.

Next there's Johnny Boy. I worry about him a lot. I tried talking to him to find out why he don't care about nothing, only, he ain't care to talk. There's got to be a reason that don't nothing get to him, it has to though. I think he just keeps it all inside; that ain't healthy. And what can I say about Smiley besides I think he's hiding something. Don't nobody in their right mind smile that fucking much. If he ain't hiding something, then he's crazy. The jury's still out on that one. Finally there's KO…where do I even start with KO? Of all the guys, I worry about him the most. I gotta talk him down about a thousand times a day. Don't tell him I said this, but, I think KO's gonna be the first one to get snuffed. I ain't never seen a temper like his before. And I can't ask him what's wrong because he always yells. I don't like to be yelled at. I may be seven feet tall, but I got feeling dammit.

This is why D gets mad at me. He says I talk about my feelings and read people and shit, like a broad. I can't help it if I'm observant. I see shit that most people don't. Sometimes, if you just keep your fucking mouth shut, you see a whole lot. For example, when people remember their eyes shift the left, when they lie their eyes shift to right. It's little shit like that that lets me know when things ain't right. The guys think I'm a mind reader; I don't read minds, I just read people.

Alright, so I take it your time is as valuable as mine, so I ain't gonna waste it. Besides, I'm sure the guys done already gave you a half assed recount of what went down. I ain't gonna rehash shit you already know. I'm gonna tell you some different shit all together. You already know about the shipment and the captain…you probably know about the crew too, right? That part ain't important to me. What is important is what happened when we got back to The Spot…

We all showed back up here at the same time. I drove my personal car, because I had to meet Johnny Boy and Enigmatic at the drop off. I had some shit to take care of beforehand and it was just easier if I drove separate. D don't like it when we don't all go together, but in all fairness, he just sprung this fucking shipment on us tonight. I had plans already and I wasn't breaking my plans. Do you know what that makes the other person feel like? So, I mighta been a few minutes late, but, I really don't think the outcome woulda changed had I been in the car with Johnny and Eni to start with. Ok, after we get here, D's starts having a fucking heart attack and sends the guys out to find something about who hit the shipment, but he had me stay behind because we had to figure out what to tell Don Double V.

Now, before I tell you what we told him, let me say this…I don't like lying; it ain't my style. I'd rather tell you the truth and have you shit bricks dealing with it, then to lie to your face. But I also know my place in this organization and if we wanted to live, we was lying to the Don. Right away I knew who to pin this on…Mysterio Distilleries. A little spin on the rivalry between Double V and Rey Mysterio made perfect sense and it could buy us a few days. They're all the way in fucking Mexico; ain't shit Double V can do about them tonight. By the time he got his soldiers together to handle this, we'd know who hit us and have back the booze and the money. Alls we needed was a little time.

Once we finally got our story together, we come out and see Double V and his fucking muscle sitting there. I could tell right away that something was wrong with Double V. He don't like to wait, but, when you got Legs, Lollipop, Eyes and Jugs entertaining you, what the fuck is there to complain about? And when I seen the way he was fumbling with that silver lighter to spark up his cigarette, I knew he was getting hot under the collar and it wasn't from waiting. I watched for a minute because that wasn't like Double V. First, _everything _that belongs to him is gold and it all has two big fucking V's on it; like he's gonna fucking forget his fucking name and needs a constant reminder. Second, Double V don't fumble…ever. I guessed it was one of two things, either he was nervous, or he never used a lighter like that before. Something was definitely off.

Well, me and D tell Double V about the mishap and how the Mysterio Distilleries shorted us on the shipment and made off with his twenty grand. He wasn't happy, but that was a calculated risk. He starts telling D that's he's been watching him and wants to have his guys come in and go over the books. Double V thinks D's skimming off the top; he says that The Spot is bringing in too much business and his cut ain't big enough. If his cut was any bigger, we'd all be paying _him_ to work here.

I could see how mad D was, so that's when I spoke up. I ain't want D to get his face cut off right there at the table, so, I explained to the Don that times is getting hard and everyone wants a bigger piece of the pie. With all that shit with Lenin in Russia and this Stallin guy taking over, we couldn't use Kolov as our distributor no more. We had to rely on Mysterio and that guy had us by the balls. Well, the Don ain't wanna hear that shit. He had the nerve to say if we don't fix this shit in 48 hours, he was taking the club. What Double V said didn't bother me; he always makes that fucking threat. What pissed me off was Double V's bodyguard, this fat fucker called, The Show, was there. I hate that guy; he's a grade A asshole. I don't trust that guy for nothing.

After they leave, me and D go back in the office to talk. Now I know damn well, I locked that door. But sure as hell, when we get back there, the door's wide open and the papers on the desk is moved around. Someone's been fucking snooping…I don't like this one bit.

So, I not only need to worry about the shipment and keeping Big D from having a stroke, but now, I gotta watch Double V and that fucking Show… and to top it off, I gotta keep my eyes peeled for little fucking snooper too. When this shit is over, I'm taking a fucking vacation. I'm only one person; I can't take but so much.

* * *

"What the fuck took yous so long? How the hell long do it take to blow up a ship?" I can hear by the tone of his voice, Big D's on the edge. I look over at Eni…he don't like when you question his work. D notices it too and changes the fucking subject. "Tell me you found something."

Johnny Boy puts a diamond cufflink and some old Carlton butts on the desk. "I found these on the ground. You thinking what I'm thinking?" I never really understood how anyone could know what the fuck Johnny Boy's thinking…he don't show no emotions.

"I seen this before." Big D picks up the cufflink and studies it. "Where was it?"

"Smiley found it on the Captain. These butts, was by the tracks from the Gat." I hate when Johnny Boy sits with his feet up on the fucking desk. Now of all times ain't the time for fucking relaxing. "Who the fuck else you know smoke Carltons?"

"Besides you…only one other person. What else you got?" Before I go jumping to conclusions, I need to see it all. I need to know if I'm heading in the right direction. Smiley hands me a bill of lading, I look at it and then up at D. "Did you order all of this? We're running _one_ fucking club, no wonder Double V's pissed about his cut. Jesus D, you're gonna go fucking bankrupt…"

Big D snatches the paper out my hand. I hate when does shit like that. All he has to do is ask me to see it, but, I guess that's too much for him. "I ain't order this. This ain't no where near the usual shipment. This is enough booze to last three months. I ain't got that kinda money." He looks at the guys confused. "What else you got?"

Enigmatic starts jingling something in his hand. ".38 & Tommy's." That's all he has to say. I guess if I read between the lines, he's trying to say that these guys used big fucking guns. It would really help me out if he would just come out and fucking say that though.

I lay everything out on the table. We got a shipment that's too big, .38 shells, a Gatling gun, Tommy guns, Carlton butts, and a diamond cufflink. I don't like where this is going.

"I took this outta the Captain's pocket." KO reaches in his jacket and pulls out a wallet.

Big D's looks at him disgusted. "Why the fuck you robbing dead guys? That's fucking low-class. All the shit on that fucking boat that you coulda hocked for a price, you take the fucking Captain's wallet? Johnny…you gotta learn to control him better."

"It ain't my job to baby-sit him." Johnny shrugs, he don't care what KO does. "Fuck him."

I hate when Smiley laughs at KO. He's got enough shit to deal with besides Smiley laughing at him. "Shut your fucking mouth!" It seems like the more pissed KO gets, the funnier Smiley thinks it is.

I take a look at the wallet. I can't fucking believe it. I slam it down and look Big D in the eye. "He was a fucking Fed."

"What?!?" None of the guys was expecting this.

I look at KO. "Did you look at this before you took it? Did you get anything else?"

KO shakes his head. "I just wanted it, so I took it. I done good right?"

Sometimes, I feel like a proud father when this fucking idiot makes sense. "You done good kid…real good." I look over at D and smile. "If that Captain was a Fed, then that means, he was planning on busting our asses tonight. Only he got tooken out before that could happen. Now there ain't no evidence left connecting us to that boat, but that ain't gonna stop fucking Bishop or The Headhunter from coming in here trying to get some information. There's only two people we need to talk to now…The All-nighter and the fucking Princess."

I can tell right away that no one knows what the fuck I'm talking about. Sometimes, I hate being the smart one. I watch the way D rubs his hand across his head. "Candy, we ain't got time for this bullshit…who the fuck was it."

"I need a little bit more, but I'm willing to lay bets on Don Bugsy Jarrett." I sit back in the chair and watch the understanding cross everyone's face. Everyone that is, except KO. "Look it…who else wear's fucking gaudy ass cufflinks like this? Who else got the money and the muscle to pull off Gats _and _fucking Tommy's? Who else has an in with the Feds?"

KO still don't understand. I swear sometimes talking to him is like talking to a child. "We got that kinda muscle."

"But we ain't do this fucking job you fucking moron." I don't think Big D understands how harsh his words are sometimes.

I swear if Smiley laughs again, I'm gonna get Eni to kill him. "All-nighter's fucking the Princess, right? Ain't she married to The Headhunter?" His fucking smile is about to split his simple ass looking face in half. But that's the way he looks when he's thinking.

"Exactly." It's almost too convenient, but Big D seems real happy with the way this is playing out. "She gives up information on us to The Headhunter that she got from Daddy Double V, they tell this fucking Captain guy…the next thing you know, All-nighter slips it to her, she sings like a fucking canary…Bugsy does the hit and we get left holding the fucking bag."

"It fits…but I wanna check something out first." I gotta look all the angles; I ain't leaving nothing to chance. This is some major shit we're talking about.

Johnny Boy's face is all blank. "So you want us to hit him?" He don't really seem to care that we're talking about going after a Don. I don't think he understands what that means and if he do, he just don't give a fuck.

"We can't kill a Don! We don't even know for sure; Bugsy don't even smoke cigarettes. Let me make a call first." Alls I need is a few hours. I'll have all of this shit solved by that time.

I can tell by D's face, he ain't going for it. "Fuck the call; this shit is going down, tonight. If Bugsy wants a war, we'll fucking give him one."

"D…this don't feel right. I just need a little time." I know D don't like it when I second guess him, but this shit is important. "Think about it…"

Big D's face gets all hard. "You better do what you do, Candy. Find me out what I need to fucking know. You got two hours, after that we go through with this." He stands up and adjusts his suspenders. "Guys go relax, but don't go too far. Have a drink, go talk to the girls and have your asses back here in exactly two hours. We gotta lotta shit to do."

This is all wrong. There's too much shit that ain't explained and this answer is too fucking easy. It feels like a set-up. Only right now, I got five guys all willing to say fuck it, just to get the night over with. I gotta figure this shit out fast, before Big D calls Double V or worse…before we go killing a Don.

Who woulda thought that all of this woulda come from one fucked up shipment?


	9. Allnighter's Evening

_A/N: I haven't been having the greastest week, but writing helps me escape. So here's the next chapter for your reading pleasure. In my opinion there's one major clue in this one. Here's a hint, re-read the first chapter to see if you can find it. Ok, I'm not helping you out anymore. _

_xoxoxo Shanny_

_**This chapter contain sexual content.**_

* * *

All-nighter's Evening 

So you wanted to see me? Well, here I am. Take a good look too, because, more than likely you ain't gonna see me again after this. It's just the kinda guy I am…I stick around, do my thing, then I'm gone.

They call me The All-nighter. I got the name from this broad I use to know when she found out that I had what they call stamina. Let's just say that I use that stamina to get things that don't belong to me. I get other men's wives, I get secrets, I get bank account numbers. See, being good and having patience gets you a whole lotta shit. Some of the guys I work with think beating the shit out a mug will get you answers, but, I found that dragging that shit out can get you a whole lot more. And more than that, if you ever want to find out something, find a broad, they know everything. Lucky says I got a passion for pain. I don't like to see other people hurt. But what I want is more important to me than how you feel, so if I gotta do that shit slow and hurt you just a little bit more, so be it.

Alright look, I ain't in the best of moods tonight so how bout I just tell you what happened, so I can get the fuck outta here? I'm sure Lucky done already told you about the shipment and how we was ambushed when we got to the boat. Figures…he can't keep shit to himself to save his fucking life. I tell ya, if I ever crossed him, I wouldn't even get to enjoy beating him slowly to get answers; he'd sing on the first fucking punch.

Ok, it's like this; me and Face got this competition going on. The broads love him. He's the type they wanna take home to momma cause he's charming and he's real sweet. He talks to broads and promises them marriage and shit like that to get them in bed. Me? I just look at 'em. You want love and romance, see Face. You want the ride of your fucking life, you need to have me in your bed at the end of the night.

Well, it just so happens a few months ago, this dame came in Classics. She was beautiful but we all knew who she was. She was the Princess, the only daughter of Don Double V and the wife of this fucking Fed that we call Headhunter. It was strange that she was there, when her father was involved with The Spot and her husband was constantly busting our balls, but, with that little dress she had on, I didn't really give a fuck. Lucky put me and Face on her. If nothing else, we was supposed to find out something we could use on Headhunter to get him to back off. I ain't gotta tell ya that she picked me; do you fucking blame her?

So let's just say for a few months, I been tapping it. I like Princess, she can take whatever I dish out, plus, she tells me everything I wanna know. So tonight, I go to her place, because I know her fucking pig husband was at Classics. She don't even let me get in the door before she starts pulling of my jacket and loosening up my suspenders. This broad is hot for me. Yeah, I fucked her… right there on her living room floor. Granted, it wasn't one of my best performances, but that was just the first go round. So, I picked her up and took her to her bedroom; it's something about fucking her in Headhunter's bed that cracks me the fuck up.

See, I been with her long enough that I know how she works. She don't talk right away, so I gotta make it real good for her to get what I need. I whispered some sweet shit to her, started rubbing her back, you know the kinda shit that broads like. We both know damn well, I ain't the gentle type, but she can always dream can't she? And, I think it's cute how she thinks she can get shit outta me. I done got sucked off by a ton of broads in my day, but her mouth is like a fucking vice grip. I almost slipped a few times, but come on…I'm The All-nighter; get the fuck outta here. I had to hand it to her though. Asking me questions in between going deep… real fucking effective. Even though I ain't answer shit, I found out that she knew about the shipment; only I ain't know how much.

Well, once I had enough of this playground shit, I resorted to dirtier tactics. Let's just say that my tongue is a fucking lie detector. And as soon as I rimmed her, the truth came barreling out. Hey…I done had my tongue in worse places, but what can I do about it? Some broads like it in the ass and Princess, she fucking loves it. So now that I had her practically begging for me to fuck her, I asked her what she knew about this shipment. She started whining about some shit; nothing that I wanted to know…it was time to move on to bigger and better things. The first finger, I found out that the Captain was working with her husband. The second finger, she told me the Feds was planning on bringing down both clubs. By the time I slipped it in, I knew that half the crew on the boat was undercover. The Feds got wind of the orders and combined them on this phony ship and was waiting to bust us. They had us on racketeering, smuggling, extortion, organized crime, a few murders…we was all looking at Alcatraz or worse.

By this time, I'm giving it to her hard core; she's fucking screaming and scratching me and shit. I don't like marks on my body. I done spent too much time perfecting it to have some broad scratch it all up. But hey…I'm good, so I can understand. She tells me that her husband and his partner were supposed to be there for the bust, but something musta gone wrong. I knew I had to switch positions to get the rest of the story. So now I had her face down and ass up and I'm pounding away like I'm trying to drive a railroad stake into the fucking ground. Did she talk…what the fuck do you think? Princess told me that Headhunter came back home early and he was acting all strange. Then he gets a call and needs to take money outta the safe. So he's keeping the money he's stealing from us at home…good to know. She already gave Face the combination to the safe one night when I was up in Cambridge…it's a long fucking story and we ain't talking bout that one right now. But just know this, this thing with me and Face, switched into high gear after that little stunt.

Well, I finished the job, got a few good ones off and waited til she fell asleep. I made my way to the safe, took out a few stacks, then I seen two .38s tucked in the back, half ass wrapped in cloth. I ain't no gun expert or nothing, but I could smell the powder on 'em. Them shits was shot off real recent. I took 'em; they may come in handy. I know I'ma have to hear about this shit when I see her again. But if she wanna keep getting the good shit, she better not complain too fucking much.

So there you have it. That's what I know. I don't know if Headhunter was at the pier earlier, but I do know he's involved with this fucking shipment. And now, he needs money…for what? And what the fuck he got .38s for? Pigs use .22s or .45s, something ain't adding up. I needed to talk to Moves; he'd know what the deal is. And if I play my cards right and we get to the bottom of this shit, I just might be able to go back to the Princess tonight and actually live up to my name.

* * *

"What the fuck you want?" No sooner do I get back to Classics do I see Enigmatic. Me and him don't get along. The only reason I ain't took him out yet is because of Moves. And he got a lot of fucking nerve showing up here, especially with this heat coming down. 

"Kelly." I ain't never understood why he don't talk neither. He damn sure ain't like his brother; Moves don't shut the fuck up. Enigmatic walks pass me, he don't even turn around. I could drop him right where he stands.

I see the way Kelly's face lights up as soon as she sees him. I don't get them. What the fuck she see in him, when she could be with a Joe like me? "Eni!" She damn near breaks her ass to run around that desk. "You ok? I was so worried…I gotta talk to you. There's something real big happening." She's looking him over like she's checking for bullet wounds or something.

Enigmatic don't even talk to his girl, he just nods his head. "I'm takin' you home. Come on."

Now, I don't like to get in the middle of people's private shit, but, Kelly works for us, and I just don't fucking like him. "She ain't going nowhere."

I know that look in his eye and sure as hell before I can blink he done pulled out his piece. "I ain't ask for your permission." For a guy to be soft spoken, he sure as hell has an attitude problem.

"Eni…what's wrong baby?" Kelly got this way of calming him down. I done seen her do it before. Her voice is so soft that it almost hurts me to hear it. "Put that away…please?" He takes one look at her and I can see his weakness. That's one thing in this business; you don't ever let no one know your soft spot. She's gonna get him fucking killed.

Lucky comes to the door and he's pissed. "What the fuck are you here for? You fucking spying on me? All-nighter, bring his ass in here."

I take one step forward and now I feel something tight around the back of my throat. "You move, I'll snap your fucking neck." Fucking KO…just what I need.

"Yous think you can just walk in my fucking joint and take over? I'll kill all of yas!" Lucky stops all of a sudden and I can tell by the look on his face, it ain't just Enigmatic and KO here, but my back's to the door so I can't see 'em.

"Take your girl home." I know Johnny Boy's voice without even turning around. I kinda admire how fucking cool he is about everything.

I watch Enigmatic take Kelly's hand and walk out Scott free. But even with him gone, this fucking KO still got his fucking arm around my throat. "You let me go and you're a dead man."

I can hear Smiley laughing; he's busting a fucking gut over this shit. As soon as I feel KO loosen up, I turn and take a swing. I wouldn't think for him to be so big that he could move that fast. And I damn sure didn't look for that left hook; I was concentrating on the right. Now, I'm flat on the floor, trying to figure out what the fuck just happened. But all I can see is the barrel of a Tommy gun pointed at my head and Smiley fucking laughing with a machete against Lucy's throat.

"So you mugs like stealing fucking shipments, huh?" Johnny Boy sparks a Carlton and throws the match down on me. "Well, you send a message to Bugsy. He wanna fuck with us, we're fucking ready."

I ain't got no idea what the fuck he's talking about. I don't know what the fuck Lucky done did now, but I know it's got something to do with what I found at Princess'. Lucky looks scared as shit. He done cooked something up and if it involves Bugsy, we're all dead.

"You want I should kill him?" KO's a fuck up. Who asks permission to kill when you got a fucking automatic pointed at a dome? If it was me, I woulda took the shot.

"I don't care. Just hurry up." Johnny Boy walks out but not before flicking his Carlton butt at Lucky's chest.

Smiley's still fucking laughing. "Shit Johnny, you almost set me on fire…what the fuck?" I can't tell if he's mad. He seems happy about it. I don't trust that guy. "And you tell your little crew, that we're fucking waiting for 'em." He laughs again and pulls away from Lucky.

"This shit ain't over!" I don't make threats, I make promises. And right now, I promise, I ain't finished with KO, not by a damn sight.

As soon as they leave, Lucky standing starts pacing the floor. "Go find the boys. Get 'em back here, now! Big D wants a fucking war, we're gonna give him one!"

I don't like this; they think _we_ did the hit. "I gotta tell you what the Princess said."

"I ain't got time for that right now. We gotta deal with these fucking grips first, then we concentrate on the shipment." Lucky don't know how to prioritize. He don't think it's strange that they got hit and so did we?

"Lucky…something don't feel right."

"Get your ass in gear and find the boys. And pay a little visit to Kelly's house on your way back. That fucking guy thinks he can just walk in here and start some shit? Show him how we finish it; any means necessary." Lucky's right. We gotta send a message, we ain't to be fucked with. Even if I do like Kelly, too bad…she coulda had me, now she's gonna get hurt because of that fucking Enigmatic.

This is fucked up. Big D thinks we hit him, that means Double V thinks so too. We're going to war, only we ain't do the hit and we still don't know who hit us. Alls I know is, somehow, Headhunter's involved and Lucky done made some deal with someone to cover the cost of this shipment. I need to talk to Moves.

There's gonna be a bloodbath tonight, I can feel it. I should be enjoying the company of a lady friend, not dealing with shit. Whoever did this hit, fucked up more than just a shipment.


	10. Moves on Making Moves

_A/N: This chapter is going to do one of two things; shed some light or confuse you more. Hopefully the former.

* * *

_

_Moves on Making Moves _

I like this set up you got here. You know, if you really wanted extra protection, you should have 'em two guys standin' by that water cooler go over to that file cabinet. It's gonna take them at least 25 steps to get in this room if I decide I don't wanna talk to you no more. At least if they was pretendin' to look through them files, they'd be only be about two feet away.

See, that's what I don't understand. People always do dirt, hey…I done my fair share, but y'all don't get away with it, cause y'all don't think it through all the way. You gotta play all the angles, look at it from every direction, you gotta watch people; know what they're thinkin', know their next move before they do.

You probably think I'm crazy don't you? Well if I'm crazy how come I ain't never got caught? They don't call me Moves for nothin'. I been makin' moves since I could talk, I always been a man with a plan.

You know, it use to piss me off when my brother would tell me that if me and Candy got together, we could pull off the biggest heist Boston done ever seen. Eni's always talkin' bout how we should stick it to these big city boys, show 'em how we do it down south. I love Eni, I really do, but he need to stick to fuckin' guns and ammo and leave the plan makin' to me. Me and Candy don't do nearly the same thing. Candy's good at readin' _people_; I'm good at readin' _situations_. He can smell a setup, _I_ make fuckin' setups. Truthfully, we're two conceited assholes that are real good at what we do. We'd probably fuckin' kill each other if we ever worked together.

Eni's always tellin' me that I think too highly of myself; he's says I brag too much and it's gonna get me in trouble one day. Well I think Eni, don't know what the fuck he's talkin' about. He don't gotta put up with the shit I do. If he had to work for Lucky and knew how much he fucked up, he'd be braggin' too, just so people would know that those stupid fuckin' plans wasn't his.

I know this is gonna sound bad and I like Lucky personally, but workin' for him…that's a big fuckin' difference. I'ma guy that makes moves, so don't hire me to make your moves, if you're gonna fuckin' make 'em first then send me to figure out a way to get your ass outta trouble. I ain't a clean up guy. You want somebody to clean up your mess, you see Taker 'bout that shit. You wanna fool proof plan, that goes off without a hitch to begin with, or a setup that won't nobody suspect…then leave that shit to me; I'm a professional. But it's like no matter how good I am, Lucky don't respect that and frankly it pisses me off.

That's one thing I admire about Big D. He lets his crew do their fuckin' jobs and he don't try to overstep his bounds, neither. Now I know I ain't supposed to like him, but I do, he's good people. See, this business is hard, cause you can't be friends with your friends and you gotta pretend like you don't like your family and shit, just because we all work for two rich assholes that don't like each other. You mean to tell me because Double V and Bugsy hate each other, I gotta hate my little brother, when neither one of them gives a fuck about any of us? That's fuckin' bullshit. I done grew up with that boy; I helped him make his first air gun, I bought him a fuckin' Gat for his birthday…that's my blood. I ain't sellin' him out for no fuckin' body.

If either one of them Dons knew how close these crews were, they'd have a fuckin' heart attack. See I think their problem is they can't separate business from personal time. Like a few months ago, Kelly gave Eni a birthday party and she invited his crew and mine. To anybody else lookin' in, I could see where it would look like some serious shit was gonna go down. But we was all able to put business aside and just have a good time. Well, in all fairness, there was one fight; All-nighter and Eni don't like each other and I don't have no idea why. But if I could make a move and have them work together, they'd be a fuckin' team for the history books.

It's funny, cause when you all come from the same neighborhood, it hard to be with two different crews. See, me and Face are close to Eni. Then you got Taker and Candy…they been friends for more than twenty years. You got Sneaky and KO, they use to box together when they was comin' up. And then there's me and Smiley, we use to be friends…best friends, that was until this whole thing with this dancer named Reds happened; but that was a long time ago. And to top it off, Big Kev and Big D, two of the most unlikely fuckers you'd every think to be friends, go back to the sandbox together. The only two that don't really associate with nobody from the other crew is Johnny Boy and All-nighter. I think that's cause they're both too damn cool for their own good.

See, that's what Double V, Bugsy and Lucky don't get. Leave work at fuckin' work. Not everythin's gotta be about business. There's a way of doin' dirt without shittin' on your friends, only I don't think they understand that. See, Double V married off his daughter to a Fed, to try to get protection. It just happened that it was the same fuckin' Fed that been in Bugsy's pocket for years. Now Double V and Bugsy use to work together for Don Jimmy Cornett, they use to be friends. Only they chose to stab each other in the back and now, every chance they get one of 'em tryin' to destroy the other. Bootleggin' makes plenty of money…it's enough of it to go around, but do 'em fuckers see that? Hell no. See, it's all about strategy; it's all about what move to make.

Take this hit tonight for example, whoever came up with that plan, they're pretty fuckin' smart. I couldn't've done it better myself. Well…that ain't true; I could've. See, if I was behind it, I wouldn't've left no evidence; I'd be leavin' them scratchin' their fuckin' heads, tryin' to figure out what the fuck happened. That is, unless of course whoever did it, planted shit hopin' that it got blamed on the wrong person. Now if we're talkin' bout this from a heist point of view, it coulda been better. But if we talkin' bout this from a setup point of view…this was fuckin' brilliant.

I don't wanna say what I seen when we was the pier. That's one thing I don't do, I don't make claims on moves unless I'm sure about 'em. But I can tell you that the way 'em folks that was shootin' at us was placed, they knew we was comin'. That captain's body lyin' right on the ramp, that was a trap to get us on the boat. And then the way 'em body's was stacked…the people shootin' wasn't the crew; it was whoever was fuckin' watchin' us from the pier.

Alls I needed is a little time and I could tell you everythin' about this fuckin' jack that you'd wanna know. But not with fuckin' Lucky breathin' down my neck. It takes time to plan a hit like this and it's gonna take time to fuckin' figure it out. But hey…he's the club owner, he knows everythin' right? Alls I am is just the fuckin' man that makes the plans.

* * *

It's pitch black outside, but I can still see pieces of wood and metal floatin' in the harbor. "What the fuck happened? Where's the fucking ship?" I can tell right away that Taker ain't in a good mood.

"Enigmatic." I know Eni's handy work anywhere. I tell him all the time that if he gonna do somethin', he needs to be more subtle. He coulda used Nitroglycerin, but no…he's gotta show off and use fuckin' C4. I can't keep protectin' him, if he keeps leavin' his signature every fuckin' where.

Face looks at me with that innocent little smirk of his. "Man I wish I coulda seen that. You know how big that fire musta been?"

Sneaky sees somethin' on the ground. "What the fuck is this? Was there a fucking cart here?" He leans down and touches the tracks made in the mud.

I don't know how I ain't notice that before, but he's right, somethin' made those tracks. It was somethin' heavy. "Didn't that Captain have a big fuckin' hole in his back?"

"What you thinking Moves?" Taker's all about gettin' to the point.

"Come on…let's go." It ain't safe to talk here; I need to lay everythin' out first. We all take our separate cars and end up at the warehouse. It's just easier if I can put my hands on everythin' we done found. I need to set up a pattern, see who was where and why. Somethin' don't feel right.

"So what's goin' on at The Spot?" Face is still clickin' that fuckin' lighter. He don't even smoke, I don't know why he needs to carry a fuckin' lighter all the damn time. Plus he don't seem to realize that we're in a fuckin' warehouse with everythin' from booze to gasoline in it. _Everythin'_ in here is flammable.

"Something big's going down. There's too much shit that ain't adding up." It ain't like Sneaky to be nervous. He's the fuckin' leader of the Roundhouse Crew. But I can tell by the way he's walkin' in the warehouse, somethin's botherin' him. "I called some of my boys. They're on standby. I got a bad feelin' about this one, Moves."

I watch as Taker dumps everythin' from the bags on the table and starts layin' them out. He seems really proud of how many wallets he done collected. "I bet you there's at least a grand here." All of a sudden Taker's face changes. He looks up at me and slams the wallet down. "Fed." Then he picks another and slams that one down. "Fed." He's goin' through each one with that same look. "Fed…Fed…Fed…This was boat full of fucking Feds?" I ain't never seen Taker flinch before, but if we was in a shoot out with guys willin' to kill Feds, there's no tellin' what we're dealin' with.

"And what the fuck was this scarf doin' below the deck? Who the fuck is W?" Face is holdin' the scarf, lookin' at it a funny. "I don't know nobody who goes around wearin' a W."

"Fuck me sideways." I don't believe I didn't notice this shit before.

"What you got?" Sneaky's real interested. He comes over beside me.

It's so small, but it says so much. I hold it up, a gold money clip. I look at the boys and smile. "This is the key to it all." Don't nobody know what the fuck I'm talkin' about. I swear they need to pay closer attention. "Alright listen…we got wallets from Feds, we got a scarf with the initial W on it and we got this…"

"What the fuck you talkin' about, Moves?" Face is gettin' impatient. I know that itchy look in his eyes. He's probably got a date with a virgin or somethin'. I swear between him and All-nighter, it's amazin' we get anythin' done. It's still hard to believe that Face is a grown man; especially when he looks all wide eyed like that. He thinks givin' me them baby blues is gonna speed this up; he's got another think comin'.

I look up just as All-nighter walks in the warehouse. "I been looking all over for yous guys. Why the fuck ain't yous at the boat?"

"Eni blew that shit up." Face gets so happy about fire. Him and Eni got problems.

Taker takes the money clip from my hand and puts it in his pocket. "I want this."

I look at the scarf closer. "What if this ain't a W? What if it's just two fuckin' V's sewn real close together?"

Face takes the scarf and looks it over. "Motherfucker."

Dealing with Taker, you gotta be real careful. "I need that clip back. You can keep it, but let me see it a minute." I can tell he ain't that happy about givin' it back. "I'll give it back to you, I promise." I study the money clip. It makes so much sense. "This is Double V all over."

All-nighter takes the clip, but not before Taker gives him the eye. "You'll get it back. Shut the fuck up." He looks it over then looks at me. "It can't be. It ain't got his initials on it. _Everything_ that man owns got his initials on it, right down to the Princess."

"But who gives out gold like it's fuckin' goin' outta style?" Face got a point. "Everybody in his crew is dripping in gold. Who else rolls with Double V?"

Sneaky looks up like a light bulb just went off. "I seen Show at The Spot. He was pulling out bills, but he ain't have one of these. That fucker always has a wad in a clip." He gets this devilish smile. "Shit, I done picked that mark's pocket enough times to know that."

This shit is gluin' together like mortar. "So who did the hit?" All-nighter might be good with the ladies, but he ain't that fuckin' smart, that's for sure.

"When I was at The Spot, I seen some notes on Big D's desk. They was expecting a shipment at the same time, from the same boat. Big D was all nervous and Double V was pissed. Plus, I seen something else." Sneaky looks at Face. "I seen _your_ silver lighter in the hands of the man himself."

"What the fuck?" Face don't take lightly to people fuckin' with his fire. I ain't never understood that. When this is over, I'ma suggest he get some help. "That motherfucker had _my _fuckin' lighter?"

"When I was at the club just now, Eni and his fucking crew came busting in there and took Kelly out." All-nighter makes sure he looks right at me when he speaks. "Johnny Boy thinks _we_ hit them."

This ain't making sense. "They got hit too?"

"Yeah…Eni said they had some trouble tonight." Face is lookin' around confused. He's tryin' to figure out how to spin that he been talkin' to Eni about business. That's one rule we all got. Friends is friends but business is business. We don't talk about our business with our friends.

It makes perfect sense. "What if they didn't really get hit? What if it was a setup for Double V to hit _us_? That way he could make it look like he had reason to come after us, when all the while it was him?" I can see them startin' to get the picture. "Double V got enough muscle to pull off the type of ammo we was facin' tonight. Double V got connections with the Feds. Double V could get his fuckin' hands on a Gat."

"A Gat?!?" No one saw that comin'.

"You know those tracks you found Sneaky? That's from a Gat. Me and Eni done took his Gats out enough for me to know what them tracks look like." Now all I gotta figure out is who else knows how to use one.

"We got another problem. Princess told me the Feds got shit on us. They was planning on busting all our asses tonight. And I found these…" All-nighter pulls out two .38s wrapped in cloth. "We need to find somebody that knows about guns. I got some fucking questions."

I know a little about guns, because you can't grow up with Eni and not. But for what we need to know, we need an expert. I don't know how the fuck this is gonna go over. "We gotta talk to Enigmatic."

"We can't do that." All-nighter hands Taker back the clip and rewraps the guns. "Lucky wants us to go to Kelly's, to teach Big D a lesson about having his fucking goons come in and cause trouble. Eni ain't gonna help, not if we got his girl."

"Why the fuck would Lucky wanna do that?" I don't even know I'm askin'. Lucky know dick about pussy. "We ain't gonna do it, are we?" I like Kelly. She's gonna be sister-in-law; I can't let that happen.

Taker shrugs. "I don't give a fuck. I'm ready to get this over with." He looks at All-nighter for answers. "So how we gonna hit the Don?"

All-nighter _is_ the number two; only I can't figure out why ask _him_, when _I'm_ the one that makes the plans. "Lucky said any means necessary. He put me in charge. I say, if Double V wants a war then we take him up on his fucking offer. Sneaky, call your boys. We're settling this shit tonight."

This day is going from bad to worse. "We can't kill a Don! We'll all end up dead." That's another thing about workin' with hot heads. All they wanna do is settle shit. It takes time to make plans.

"Well then you got one hour to come up with something to make sure we don't get popped. Otherwise, we're going in there, guns blazing." All-nighter looks at everybody and they all nod in agreement. "Sneaky…you come with me. We're gonna pay Kelly a visit." All-nighter and Sneaky walk out toward the door. "It's your move Moves. You better make it a good one."

I can't come up with a plan like he's talkin' about in an hour. I'm good, but I ain't a fuckin' miracle worker. Even though everythin's pointing to Double V, somethin' still don't feel right. I gotta see somebody and fast, before we all end up dead men. I gotta hand it to 'em; whoever did this, was brilliant. This was more than a fuckin' job; this was a stroke of genius. And to think this was supposed to be a run of the mill shipment.


	11. The Princess' Court

_A/N: Sorry it took so long for an update, but these characters weren't cooperating. There are two big clues in this chapter. For a hint on one...re-read chapter 5 to see if you can catch it._

_This is for Torque. Thanks for the push in making me update this story. I hope this sheds some light... _

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The Princess' Court

Okay, let me start by telling you that I don't appreciate you dragging me down here in the middle of the fucking night. Do you even know who I am? Do you know who my father is? Or my husband, for that matter? And what gives you the right to fucking question me about anything? I don't know you and I ain't gotta tell you shit.

Besides, I don't know nothing no way. You think anybody tells me shit? Hell no. I'm so fucking sick of people telling that because I'm the Princess, that I shouldn't be getting my hands dirty. I been around this business all my life; I know the ins and outs...hell, I done more dirt then most of the fellas; but nobody trusts me enough to get the job done. Fucking amateurs. Do you know how many times I hear that because I'm a woman there ain't no way people will take me seriously? Shit…if only they knew.

I know, you look at me and think I must be living the fucking life. Well, guess what? This shit ain't all it's cracked up to be. You try being the only daughter of the richest Don in all of Boston and tell me how much fun it is. Since I was a little girl, I been dealing with bodyguards and being rushed out the room every time shit went down. Yeah I lived in a big house on the top of hill, but I never got to play with kids other than the ones of guys that worked for my Pop and even then, if their fathers' suddenly disappeared, I ain't have playmates no more. I done had my dates shook down at the door and the first guy I fucked…let's just say as soon as my Pop found out, they never found his body. Being a mob Princess is like being watched twenty-four hours a day.

And being my Pop's kid ain't much better. He ain't exactly the warm and fuzzy type. Oh sure, he's good for diamonds, a new car and trips around the world, but I don't remember the last time he hugged me. Half the time I don't think he even remembers my name. If my mother hadn't been a Princess her damn self, my Pop wouldn't have half the power he's got now. But he don't see it that way. When Pappy died, all of his business holdings went to Pop and that when he became, The Man.

You know, by right, when he gets snuffed, everything he's got should be mine. Let's face it…I'm the smart one in my family. But shit, he's been planning on giving everything away that's rightfully mine to my stupid fuck-up of a brother. Just because Lil' Mac is a guy, everybody assumes he knows the business. He done fucked up more jobs than I can count. If it wasn't for my connections and the people I hang out with, Lil' Mac's ass would be sleeping with the fishes by now. And Pop knows…he has to. He just don't care.

That's why I thought that things would be different when I got married. I figured, if I can't do the job that I was born to do, I should at least try to go straight. Now trust me, Hunter ain't really the type of guy I go for. I like my men with a little more edge to 'em. I like a man that don't really give a fuck, that'll walk in here, fuck my brains out and tip out the fucking door, without so much as giving me a second glance. I like a man that takes control and knows how to be a fucking man. You know the type; the kind that breaks some shit around the house when he fucks you, slams your ass up against the wall and fucking gives that shit to you so hard that you can't stand up straight after…yeah, that's what I like. But Hunter? I'm so sick of fucking faking it, it's fucking ridiculous.

I ain't gotta tell ya, I don't love him. Half the time I don't even like him, but if nothing else, he's good for information. See, Hunter reminds me of Pop; he's the kind of Joe that likes to brag on all the shit he's got in the works… makes him feel like a real fucking man. And if he ain't make it obvious that he only married me to keep a constant in with Pop and to get his hands on all my money, every chance he got; I might keep his secrets. If nothing else, I'm loyal. But every time I turn around, I gotta hear about his stupid fucking plans for him to bring Pop's organization down and how when he does, he's gonna be The Man and when he's in charge all the stupid fucking changes he's gonna make. See…he thinks cause he's a Fed that he could do this shit right and not get caught because he knows how to cover his tracks. I for one would like to see that shit.

Hunter's smart, but he's cocky. He shows his hand to everybody. Ain't no fucking way in hell he can do this job. And especially not with that fucking idiot he works with, Bishop. Bishop's head is so far up his own ass and he thinks he's smarter than everyone around him. Bishop's gonna be the one that fucks it all up, mark my words.

So you see why I ain't in the friendliest of moods? I got a fucking asshole for a father, an idiot for a brother, and a little dick motherfucker for a husband. Sometimes, it's a fucking chore just to get out of bed to deal with those assholes. That was, until I met All-nighter.

It's really a short story really. See, one of the few friends I got works at this club that Pop got his hands in called, The Spot. I use to go there a lot to watch my friend, Lollipop, dance; plus they got real good booze. Since Uncle Sam made getting a fucking drink a federal offense, finding a good joint is real hard around here. And trust me, with my life; I drink like a fucking fish. So anyway, I'm at The Spot and meet the guy that owns the joint, Big D. Now D's beautiful. He's real big and muscular, he's got these eyes that make my heart melt and this smile that makes me wanna take my clothes off. I fucked him a few times, but, then I found out that he's fucking everyone that works there, too. Now, I know this sounds like a double standard because I'm already married, but, I want my boy on the side to be faithful to me, ya know? Well, D ain't like that.

So after him, I started noticing this other Joe that worked there, this fucking Johnny Boy. Me and Johnny fucked around for a little while…he's a good fuck, but that's it. I dunno…there was just something about him that use to bother me. I like a guy that actually feels something and Johnny… he's so fucking calm about everything; it pisses me off. For example, when we would fuck and I'd be laying that shit on him, he still wouldn't make no noise. How the fuck am I supposed to get off on knowing that I'm putting it down, if you're just fucking laying there like you don't give a fuck one way or the other? Seriously, not even when I would suck him off…nothing. And I'm known for giving good head. Hell, Lollipop taught me when we was teenagers and she's the best there is!

Well, after a few months of that bullshit, I decided that I should check out the competition. So I went to this other club that my fucking husband been shaking down. Now, Classics ain't really my kinda place. They're too snooty and uptight for me, I like a place where you can kick off your shoes and jump on the stage with the other girls. So anyway, I ended up at Classics and I meet this guy, Babyface. Now, Face ain't my type. He's little and he's real sweet. He starts promising me everything I want, but alls I wanted was a serious fuck. I tested him out and he's good. If nothing else, Face works in a pinch; but he's the type to fall in love. I already got one fucking worthless ass husband. I don't need another one. Well, when I went back, I met my guy…All-nighter.

What can I tell you about All-nighter, except that he goes all night long? I ain't never had a guy fuck me so good. He knows everything I like; he's violent, he's rough, he fucking puts it to me like a real man should. This guy was made for me. The only problem is I broke my own rule with him. I wanted a guy to be gone when I wake up. But with him, I'm fucking broken up when I roll over and he ain't there. Oh, he takes care of me a couple of times a week, but you know what? That ain't enough. I want it all with him, I want the fucking fairytale. But, as long as I'm still married to that limp dick husband of mine and my Pop is still my fucking useless ass Pop, that ain't gonna happen.

I ain't never told All-nighter this, so don't you neither, but I love him. I'd do anything for him. How do you think he knows so much about what Hunter's got going on in his business, or what stupid moves Pop is gonna make? Sure, I let him think that he's gotta work me real good to get it out of me…I just really like when he does that shit to the best of his abilities. But the truth is, I'd tell him anything, anyway; I always do.

Like tonight… he came over and wanted to know what I knew about this shipment. I wasn't just gonna open my mouth straight off and tell him what I heard. I ain't fucking stupid; if I did that shit, I wouldn't have gotten no good loving and that shit ain't flying. Plus, I love it when he fucks me in the ass. He only does that shit when he wants to know something real bad. He's got his interviewing techniques; I got my ways of withholding information. It's a win-win situation for everybody.

So I might have let it slip that about Hunter taking money out the safe…the same way I might've let it slip to Face what the combination was. I don't give a fuck about Hunter…I want his ass gone. And just like I knew he would, All-nighter took the fucking bate. And when he thought I was sleep, there he was, in all of his naked glory, robbing my dumb ass husband blind. I know I should've said nothing about that crew being Feds…just like I shouldn't have said nothing about Hunter and Bishop being at that pier. But you know the funny thing? I don't know if they was really there or not. I'm just hoping that whatever went down that All-nighter wanted to know about, he can pin that shit on Hunter. If he does, there ain't nothing stopping me from being with my man all the fucking time.

So anyway, like I said; I don't really know shit about what happened. I know what was supposed to happen, but that's it. Whatever went on, I hope they fix this shit soon, so All-nighter can come back over while Hunter's cooking up some phony ass report. Even if I can't have the fairytale, it's still nice to pretend.

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I swear of all the people that coulda called me, I damn sure wasn't expecting this. "What the hell are you calling me at my house for?" I swear for Candy so be smart, this is fucking dumb move. 

"I need to talk to you about something." I can tell by his tone of voice, whatever it is, it's real serious.

As soon as I sit on the couch, my front door opens. "This ain't a good time. Call me back in a few hours."

I watch Hunter look at me and motion for Bishop to take a seat. The only thing I can think about is, I ain't made up the bed yet from when me and All-nighter were in it. But I don't care if he finds out. He's a worthless sack of shit anyways.

"I ain't got a few hours. It's about to be an all out war if I don't get some answers, like now." Candy's always worrying about something. I like all the guys at The Spot, but Candy's paranoia bothers the hell out of me. I know broads that don't get as riled up as he does.

I don't like that Bishop's got his feet up on my coffee table, like he fucking lives here.

"I'm sure I don't know anything." It's kinda hard to talk in code when you got two assholes breathing down your neck.

I know that Candy can read between that shit. I hope to God, he don't start talking loud. "You ain't alone are you?"

"Nope."

"Just answer me this. Did you hear about a shipment?"

"Yup."

"Princess…I need to make a call." I hate Hunter.

"So go to the fucking corner phone." I don't mean to be rude, but I _am_ on the phone. He's an asshole.

"You seen or heard anything?" Now anyone that knows me knows how loyal I am. When people help me out…I help them out. And Candy done helped me a couple of times back in the day. Well not really me…he's gotten Lil' Mac out of enough jams, that I feel like I owe him. After all, it was me that called in the favors.

"A lot." I'm talking to Candy, but I'm watching Bishop. He's pulling shit out of his jacket pocket and dumping it on my fucking table. It ain't really much; keys, gum, a lighter, pack of smokes and ear plugs.

I hear Candy shuffling around. "We got hit tonight. They took our booze, our loot and killed up a boat full of Feds. Who got muscle enough to use Tommy's and a Gat? Big D thinks it's Bugsy…but I ain't so sure. Lucky's boys are crazy, but they ain't that crazy."

Wow…that's bigger than I thought. But the only thing I can think about is the Gat. Once I started messing around with All-nighter, I met Kelly…cause she works at Classics. Now, I know Kelly's guy is into ammo, real heavy. And it just so happens that, Eni works with Candy, so why ask me?.

"I can't go out…I got company." I hate Hunter fucking looks at me. He may be my husband, but he don't control me.

Candy's quiet for a minute. "So…All-nighter was there with you?"

"Yeah."

"I thought so. That means he couldn't have done the hit." I can almost hear Candy's brain churning over the phone.

For some reason, I can't take my eyes off the ear plugs. Why the fuck would a guy just be carrying those around?

"No…later." I know, Candy knows that I'm telling him that All-nighter was here later..._after _the hit.

"Shit, so they could've… But they can't use a Gat. That fucking guy would have shot off is own leg. He ain't exactly smart, ya know."

"Bingo." It makes so much fucking sense.

"If Big D gets his way, your Pop's taking out Bugsy tonight. We gotta figure this shit out." Candy's voice gets real quiet. "Meet me in 20 minutes. And bring the package."

"Can't. It's already gone." I still feel Hunter looking at me, trying to get me off the fucking phone. "I'll see you later." I know as soon as I hang up this phone I'm gonna have to hear his fucking mouth.

"Did I get any calls tonight?" He can't even wait for me to hang it up all the way, before he starts asking fucking questions.

"What the fuck I look like, your fucking secretary? No you ain't get no calls." I hate him! I can't say it enough.

I watch him run his fingers through his hair. Something wrong, cause he don't never mess up his hair. He turns to Bishop and shakes his head. "We got problems. Guerrero ain't called yet. That bust shoulda been happened."

It's like watching two fucking idiots share the same brain. "I knew we shoulda been at the drop and not fucking around with Lucky Layfield."

Hunter's whole career was riding on this one bust. I'm kinda glad it working out so well. If they fucked up, oh well. If the boys he's been fucking with all gang up and put his ass down, he fucking deserves it. Or even better…I hope Uncle fucking Sam finds out how much shit him and Bishop do on the government's dime and they burry his big stupid ass under the jail.

I ain't got time to worry about Hunter and his stupid fucking problems. I got more important things to do. I gotta get dressed and meet with Candy. I need to find out what the fuck was up with this shipment and how much trouble All-nighter's in. I got a feeling I'm gonna be sucking a lot of thugs off to get him out of it, too. Oh well, won't be the first time.

This is fucked up, but this is what happens in the life of a Princess, even if I ain't supposed to know shit about the family business. Whoever did this caused a lot of fucking problems and their asses will pay for it. All of this shit is over a fucking shipment...


	12. Sneaky is Sneaky

_A/N: Hopefully, this chapter will start to clear some things up for you. It may help if you re-read the prologue…there's a clue about one of the character's in there. And if you re-read, the chapter on Face or Moves…there might be another clue in there for you, too._

_This is for you, LilMissCena. I promised you an update._

_**This chapter contains racial slurs.** _

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Sneaky is Sneaky

I ain't too comfortable in a place like this; that's for damn sure. Usually, when people start saying they wanna ask me some fucking questions, it means one of two things; either somebody's getting set up or my ass is headed back to the joint.

The guys I know call me Sneaky. I ain't really sneaky; careful's more the term I'd use. See, I gotta way of being invisible. People don't pay me no attention. They take one look and think I'm just a well dressed bellhop or a cook or some shit. They don't know the whole time I'm sizing 'em up, looking at which pocket they're putting their cash in. And you should see the looks I get from some of them. They look at me and just know that I'm gonna hold them up; they're right you know, but it's still fucked up. I been called everything; mook, spook, shiner…you name it, I done heard it. But then again, that shit happened before I got connected. Now with the muscle I got, you think John Q Public dares to say that shit to my face? Get the fuck outta here. I know Joe Schmoe still don't respect me, but he fears me and that's just as good.

My fingers may be sticky, but the marks who ain't paying attention is just plain fucking stupid. The only words of caution I got for you is, don't let me bump up next to you. Cause if I do, you can bet your bottom dollar, that is I ain't stole it yet, that I done either took everything you was carrying or planted some shit on you don't belong to you in the first place. See, that's what I love about working uptown. People is so into doing their own thing, they just fucking love being important…it makes me smile when I hit some high-rolling, uptight, rich as fuck mark. That'll learn them fuckers about looking at me and my boys like we're second class citizens.

I ain't ashamed of being a thief, neither. Sometimes, I wanna take what you got, especially since most people ain't never wanted to give me nothing, no way. But I ain't as bad as Taker; don't you ever put me in the same fucking category as that fucking maniac. I ain't never killed no one over some shit they had that I wanted. I'd rather take something then have you looking like a damn fool trying to figure out where it went. But Taker? He'll kill you first then take what he wants second. Where's the fucking sport in that? How am I gonna enjoy it if I can't see the look on the mark's face after I done shook him down?

Me and my crew do it the best, too. I'm sure that stoolie done already told you that I got an in with the Roundhouse Crew. Well, we ain't actually a crew…we're more like a group of friends from the old neighborhood. See, the part of town I come from, ain't the fucking high class area, like some of the guys I work with. Where I come from is a fucking run down, ratty ass ghetto. Sure, everyone looks out for everybody else, but when you got the fucking Mick flat foots rolling up and down the street, just to make sure we stay on our side of the tracks and don't go fucking with Johnny Law, well then…it makes where you're from a whole lot less attractive. See, that's what made me get a few of my friends together, so we could show the law and John Q Public that we ain't to be fucked with.

Now I bet you're wondering how I got connected. When I was a little badass fucker, I use to do a little sparring down at the local gym and that's when I first met KO. He was a good kid and a better fighter and we started hanging out. Well about five years ago, me and KO was doing some shit…you know small time heists and what not. But, because he was connected and I fucking wasn't, my ass got pinched and he walked away Scott fucking free. It wasn't until I was doing my bid that I met Taker, this kid named Gregory Knuckles and Lucky. All of us was on the same tier and well, the one thing about the joint is this; if you make friends in the joint, you better stay friends outside of it. Because once you start bearing your soul to fuckers that's locked up, if you don't stay around then when you get out…they'll take all that shit and fuck you with it.

I learned a lot while I was doing a bid, especially about how this business works. For example, did you know that Lucky was the nephew of a Don? Do you have any idea how much fucking power that gives him? I also learned about how much shit the mafia's fucking into. Lucky use to tell his stories as a way for the guys to respect him. He didn't really have much muscle and he was a lot of fucking talk, but he knew a lot, so I decided to stick real close to him. If nothing else, I knew that when I got out, I was gonna need to be connected. From the stories that Lucky told, there was entirely too much loot out there that I wasn't getting a piece of.

And you know what? For once in his stupid fucking life, Lucky was right about something. When we all hit the streets and I got hooked up with him and the boys from Classics, I started seeing more money and doing more shit than I ever dreamed about. It's a good life and bootleg liquor is America's cup of coffee. Uncle Sam thought he could bring up the moral value of society or some bullshit like that, well, that's shit's backfiring on his ass. You'd be surprised if you knew how many shipments and how much money goes in and out of these ports because people want the hooch. Really, it's 1925, what the fuck else we gotta do? The broads got this fucking movement where they want their independence; they ain't dressing like Puritans no more and now you ain't even got to marry them for them to give it up…this is the fucking best time to be alive in this fucking country and the government wants to take fucking booze away? Are they fucking crazy?

Alright, I ain't come here to give you no damn history lesson, but make sure you put this in your little file…I'm smart, maybe not as good as Moves, but there ain't a lot that gets past me. See, me and Moves got this system, he reads the scene, he figures out the who's and where's, and I get close enough to find out the why's. He takes all that shit, maps it all out and before you know it, you've been pinched. That's one thing about being fucking invisible, I can get anywhere and close to anyone…I don't care who the fuck you are.

So let's do this shall we? You know about the boat and the shipment? Well then that's where I'll start. Lucky wanted me to go to The Spot to do a little checking around to see what Big D and his boys was up to tonight. I don't know why he would think that D's crew would be hitting our shit…what the fuck reasoning they got? But orders is orders, so I did it. Well when I got there, I seen Big D and Candy talking in the back. I was standing right by the door and I heard that their shipment getting pinched. I ain't think too much of it. What the fuck I care for if they got pinched, too? I was looking for whoever got _our_ shit…obviously, it wasn't them.

Then I seen Double V getting a dance from a few of the girls and that big dumb fucker, Show, that's always with him. I figured if I wanted to know anything, they was the ones that I needed to be listening to, not a middle man like Big D. Well, as soon as I get close enough to the table, Double V stands up and starts walking to the john. He wasn't looking where he was going, so I bumped into him. I gotta say, I got the fastest hands in all of Boston. In that two seconds that we was actually touching, I had enough time to take the money out of his inside jacket pocket. Truthfully, I had enough time to slip something on him if I wanted…he ain't never know he was a mark. Of course as soon as I did it, he started yelling and saying all this shit. Then fucking Show comes over and roughs me up. As soon as my hands touch his lapels, I'm inside his fucking jacket. Managed to take his cash and a piece of paper he had in there too. I played the 'sorry Boss, I'm on my way to kitchen' role, and I got the hell out of dodge.

I did learn that Double V thinks D's a fuck up and he's gonna take The Spot, if D don't come up with the money. Judging from D's face, I'd say that Double V knew about the hit before D told him. And according to this paper, Show's got a meeting at two o'clock on Pier 10, with some guy named, Mr. Moneybags?

While they was talking, I happened to go in D's office and I noticed Headhunter and Bishop already in there snooping through things. D had something they was looking for and judging by the way Headhunter was looking, it was big. So I figure, if he was in there, D's got something on him. The only question I had, was what?

I ain't get a chance to find out. I had to wait until the Feds left and as soon as I walked in that room and looked on the desk, I seen Lollipop standing at the doorway looking at me. I known her for awhile and I know she ain't gonna say nothing. But, I did manage to get a look at a note that said, _Change of plans…Jefe, Pier 10, ten o'clock ­– Mac._ That's the same name of our boat and the pier and time we was supposed to be there. I might have slipped a message in my pocket, too; it might come in handy sometime. And maybe I took a bottle of Scotch. We don't serve it at Classics…and I love Scotch. So, after that, I decided to cut my loses and I tipped out. The boys picked me up, we go back to the warehouse and bam…Moves thinks it was Double V all the fucking time.

To be honest, I still ain't figured out how he figures that, but I ain't the one that makes the plans. I'm just the fucking guy that gets him the information. I don't really give a fuck about Lucky or the shipment, but if there ain't no product, that means I ain't getting no cut…and now we got a fucking problem. So after we find out who did the hit and take their assses out, I'm gonna get my boys from the Roundhouse Crew, to kill those fuckers one more time for good measure. We gotta lot of shit coming up and my fucking cut is buy money. Fuckers…when we find the marks responsible, they was gonna wish they wasn't never born.

* * *

Me and All-nighter walk into Enigmatic's house like we own the fucking place. It should be fucking simple, get Kelly and get the fuck out. But when I'm dealing with fucking All-nighter, shit ain't never simple. Instead of helping me look around for where Kelly might be hiding, this fucking goon goes in the kitchen and fixes himself a fucking plate. 

"What the fuck you doing? We gotta job to do." Now, I ain't scared of Eni, but I don't wanna be here when he walks through that fucking door. That guy ain't exactly stable, you know what I mean? "I'm gonna look around down here…go look upstairs for something."

All-nighter shrugs and carries his fucking food up the stairs with him. How the hell he made it to number two, is beyond me. I walk around looking at shit. You know, Big D must treat his boys really good - better than Lucky treats us, because Eni's got a nice house. I notice this door off the kitchen. I ain't think nothing of it, but when the turn the knob, I'm fucking shocked.

He's got fucking sketches and diagrams…floor plans and a whole lotta other shit all over the fucking place. He's even got a full drawing of the inside of a ship. Now, I known Eni for a few years and I know there ain't no way in hell he done came up with all of this shit on his own. Fuck, even Candy ain't the guy that could give him all of this fucking information. There's only one guy that I know is good with giving you a complete fucking map of everything that's going on…the hijacked ship and the floor plan of Classics, included.

"She ain't up there." All-nighter's back in the fucking kitchen, fumbling around the fucking pots. I swear with him, if it ain't his Johnson, it's his stomach. "Where the fuck you at?"

"In here." I make my way around to the desk and see the strangest thing. There's fucking notes on everybody…both crews. Somehow, Eni done got his hands on the rap sheets of everybody, complete with the folder with the big ass, Federal Bureau of Investigation stamped on the front of it. And there's two more files with pictures of Headhunter and Bishop on it.

I take my time and thumb through my jacket, because I'm just interested in what the fuck it might say and I notice there's a full profile on me on the inside. There's shit in there that the fucking Feds couldn't possibly have known about. There's shit in there about me, that unless you're a real observant bastard, you wouldn't fucking know.

"What the fuck _is_ all this shit?" All-nighter sits his ass down and puts his feet up on the desk. I understand him and Eni don't get along, but is he trying to get caught? You don't put your fucking dirty shoes on a marble desk; there's just no excuse for that.

"Looks like somebody's been keeping fucking tabs." I hold up some notes done in some really fucking girly handwriting. "Looks like Kelly been doing more than answering the fucking phones." I start to say something else but out the corner of my eye, I notice the nose of gun peeking out past the door way. I nod and All-nighter turns around. In one move, he done got the gun on the ground and his hand covering the broad's mouth.

"Shit, All-nighter…that ain't Kelly."

He sits the screaming broad back down on the floor. Can this night get anymore fucked up? All the fuck we had to do was to get Kelly, now we're gonna have to take this fucking girl, too, because she done seen us in the house.

"What the fuck is yous guys' fucking problem? You just don't sneak up in people's houses and go through their shit." It takes a second for me to recognize her, because she ain't dressed like normal.

Michelle "Teach" McCool, is the cigarette girl at Classics. She walks around in this little frilly outfit, complete with these little underwear with ruffles on the butt. But we call her Teach cause when she ain't working, she's all covered up and wears this ugly ass hair bun and these glasses, she looks like a school marm. I wish the fucking Flapper movement would hit her. She really ain't bad looking when she's working.

"I came by here as a favor to Kelly. She asked me to get some stuff for her, since Eni don't want her coming home." I notice the way Teach takes whatever's she's got in her hand and stuffs it in her pocket. "Now what the fuck are you doing here?"

"Let me have it, Teach." All-nighter holds his hand out with this serious look on his face. You know, there was a time when the two of them use to go at it. I done heard stories of all the shit that Teach done taught All-nighter.

"What? I ain't got nothing." She bats her lashes at All-nighter and lets down her hair. She knows he's the fucking All-nighter and he ain't falling for that shit. He's just as fucking pretty as she is.

Waiting around to see who's got more sex appeal, ain't really my style. I'm trying to get outta this place and not have wig pealed by Eni's fucking Colt. I walk over to her and look her in the eye. "Come on, Teach, just lemme have it."

"Damn it Sneaky…I ain't got nothing." She looks over at All-nighter with that sad little look in her eye. "He don't believe me."

I ain't got time for this. I gently bump against her on my way out the door and manage to get what I need from her pocket at the same time. I turn around and face All-nighter. "1401 Sycamore. That's Big Kev's place…"

"Why you carrying around Kev's information?" If I ain't know no better, I would think All-nighter was fucking jealous. Here he's fucking half of Boston, but he's got his face screwed up because Teach is carrying around Big Kev's address.

Teach looks shocked. You know, she was still sweet on All-nighter. "I didn't know that was Kev's. I swear All-nighter, I ain't know."

"Then how bout you tell me, what you _do _know." He's got her up against the wall and he's running his finger down the side of her face. She looks like she's in a fucking trance. I gotta hand it to him, he's got a way of getting fucking information from the dames.

"Alls I know is that KO dropped this off and said that's where I'm suppose to take Kelly's stuff." She puts her hand on his chest and I'll be damned if All-nighter's don't look like he's having fucking flashbacks. This ain't no fucking radio soap opera…we ain't got time for this shit. We're in fucking Enigmatic's house. That fucking guy is liable to come in here shooting first and asking questions later. "You gotta believe me."

"Why the fuck is Kelly at Kev's?" All-nighter gets closer to her face and then he fucking kisses her. I think if she knew anything, she woulda fucking spilled at that point.

I don't wanna stand around and watch this. It'd be my luck, he'd fuck her on Eni's desk to get the rest of the fucking story. I walk out and get to the living room to get away from them and I see street cars stopping from out the window. "Shit, All-nighter…we got company! From the looks of things, it's Eni's crew, Big D, our boys and The Princess." You know, if Princess wanna be discrete, she needs to drive a more regular car. Most of us drive Cadillac's or Chandler's, but Princess? She gotta get around in a fucking pearly white Ford Model A.

"Princess? What the fuck is she doing here?" That's it, now All-nighter's mad. Now things really are gonna get fucked up. He don't really seem to notice that Moves is meeting with D and his crew, only that fucking Princess is outside. All-nighter walks into the living room and looks out the window, too. He sees the way Princess is holding on to Big D's arm and his face gets red. "You know what? Fuck it. If we gotta shoot some shit, I'm ready." He cocks his gun and points toward the door, like he's waiting on D.

"Have you lost your fucking mind? Put that shit away. Let's get the fuck outta here." Jesus, why do I work with these guys?

"That's it, ain't it? It's all about the fucking Princess? Well the hell with you, All-nighter." Teach sits her ass down on the couch and folds her arms. Now_ she's_ pissed. All I'm trying to do is be invisible, but somehow I ended up in the middle of a fucking love triangle. "Well let's see how your fucking Princess feels when she finds out about last night."

I watch as All-nighter walks back into the study and gets all the shit he wants and stacks it neatly on the coffee table. That's what he does. Taker kills 'em, All-nighter tidies it up. He's got this thing with piles. He don't really try to hide shit, he just don't things being messy around him. "Then I guess, we're gonna sit here and fucking find out."

In the midst of their arguing, I find a way to sneak out the back door. Let All-nighter get his fucking head blown off. I ain't sign up for that shit. With any luck, I'll walk around the block and blend right in through the front door with the rest of the guys. Being invisible has its fucking advantages.

All I wanted was to get some info and get the fuck outta this place. Ain't no shipment worth this. I tell ya, once we get to the bottom of it, I'm collecting my share and me and my crew is gonna make our buy. I ain't willing to die cause somebody done fucked up an ordinary shipment.


	13. Taker's Take On Things

_A/N: Sorry it's taken me so long to update this story. For months every time I tried to write this Taker chapter, nothing would come out. Well, I woke up this morning and poof, it wrote itself. _

_I know you've probably forgotten what was going on in the story. Sorry. I still know how it ends and believe me, this is just the beginning. I'm determined to finish this story._

_Thanks for being patient and if you find a bunch of missing words, it's because it's 1:30 in the morning and I'm tired. Hope you enjoy.

* * *

_Taker's Take on Things

You know, I don't like you, and I don't like this office…but I do like that ring you're wearing. See the way I figure, you got two choices. I could rough you up and take that ring _or_ you could just fucking give it me and save yourself a trip to County Hospital. It's up to you. Shit, you think 'cause we're in this place that I won't take what I want? Get the fuck outta here.

There's a reason the fellas don't call me Asker or some shit like that. They call me Taker 'cause that's what the fuck I do. I fucking take what I want and I don't give a fuck who it's from. How in the fuck you think I got five years in the joint? It wasn't from asking that mark for his house in the hills. That's for damn sure.

But, I did my time and you know what I found? You can take a lot more shit from mugs that was pinched than from Joes on the street. See, mugs gotta way of trying to hide their shit, like they don't wanna fucking share. If they didn't want me to have their shit, they shouldn't bring it around me in the first damn place. So what, taking shit in the joint added five years more years to my sentence. That just meant five more years of doing what I do best. Fucking Uncle Sam, thinking he's teaching me a lesson. He was just helping me be a better thug, is all.

See, here's the thing. I came up with nothing, and I don't just mean I was poor, neither. I mean, I ain't have nothing. My folks left when I was ten and never fucking came back. I lived in this run down shack of a house and I had me and a little brother to take care of. I ain't have much schooling because my ass had to work to help put food on the table. But when the folks left, there wasn't no way sweeping up for Old Mr. Bramble was gonna bring in enough to get a fresh loaf from the bakery. And damn sure not after I seen Mr. Bramble get shook down by a couple of Wise Guys.

It just made sense then. I was a big kid. Kids in the neighborhood never fucked with me because of my size. I could take what I wanted so I could have what I needed. Just so happens that I need a lotta shit. I need houses and women and cars almost as much as I need diamonds and furs and bonds. And let's not forget warehouses, stores and clubs, too. I just need a little bit of everything.

Now I know you probably thinking that ain't fair. But you know what? I don't give a flying fuck what you think. Goods ain't given out evenly. Those rich fuckers like Lucky stay fucking rich, even when they're bass-ackwards simps like that fucking grip is. Why you think he was the first one I shook down in the joint? Roughed him up pretty good, too. But rumor had it that he was connected. His uncle was a real life Don. I ain't never been to school, but that don't make me fucking stupid. I know what the fuck that meant. That shit meant the longer I stayed close to Lucky, the more shit I could take off of him.

And don't think that I don't like the guy. Well, not really, but whatever. I like him like he provides a service and he's always got some new trinkets to add to my collection, but he ain't what I call my friend or nothin'. Not like the crew is. My boys done proved to me time and again that they got my back and they share their shit without me having to take it. They know what I don't have and I ain't gotta beat nobody to bloody pulp to get it, neither. That's loyalty. My boys take care of me, and I take care of them. Any one of them guys I'd give my life for. That's saying something, 'cause I don't give nobody shit.

So imagine how the fuck I felt to find out that we got popped tonight. Whoever this crew was got some big fucking balls to take from fucking Taker. The way I work it, each crate had twenty bottles in it. Each bottle makes about $100 profit for me. I don't know how much money that equals, but it's a fucking lot.

Now after all that shit with the shipment went down, Lucky calls our asses back to Classics. I sit there for a minute and listen to him chew us a new one. Not that I really care, because I'm too busy thinking about my cut to give a shit about who he's into for how much money. If the Don takes the profit out of Lucky's ass, it don't mean nothing to me, as long as I still get paid at end of the week.

Well anyway, that girl, Kelly, calls and says that the fucking Feds was outside. Just as I was all ready to go find out who in the fuck took something from off my dinner table, Lucky tells me to stand back and watch the door. I don't like watching fucking doors. I'm more of an action guy and unless you roll up on me while I'm fucking babysitting the door, there ain't much action. But, I knew that fucking Headhunter and Bishop was there. Those fuckers don't ever hesitate to give me a hard time.

So, while I was standing there, I hear all about how Headhunter's taking the place down and then Lucky's thanking him for the money to front the Don and promising to pay him back. The first thing I thinking? How the fuck does a Fed have that kinda money? I don't care who his wife is. Double V ain't fronting Princess that kinda dough. He must still be shaking down guys before he busts their asses. Hmmm, you would think he would be my kinda guy, wouldn't you? Except he done shook me down a few times. That means what bread he's got is mine, by right.

Bishop tells Lucky that he's got two days to turn around the profit, or fucking Classics changes ownership. Then just like nothing they come barreling out of the office. Headhunter looks me up and down and then that little prick Bishop bumps into me. The first thing I done was jacked that little fucker up by his collar and started searching his pants pockets.

I ain't find nothing good; a few hundred dollars and a key. But that wasn't half as nice as the fucking empty briefcases he was holding. I ain't never owned no brief cases before. I do now.

Anyway, you done heard the rest of the shit I'm sure. If you talked to fucking Face, I bet you he done spun some romantic fucking story about how the rest of the night went down. Or Moves? I bet he just talked your fucking ear off. But that's what happened. We got stiffed, and now we gotta find out who pinched us.

I ain't happy about none of this. Somebody done took something from me and now I gotta get it back. And it would be a night where there's a club full of people just wanting to give me their shit. But no. Now I gotta run around town with my boys and get back what's mine. But I'll tell you like this. If I gotta help chase down these goons, a few of them crates is gonna be mine. Lucky can think that the shipment is going back to Classics, if he wanna.

Fuck that.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Don't touch nothin'." I don't even look at Eni, but I can tell he's eyeing me. I'm only looking through the window while he tries to get the door open. Eni's got a real nice house; everything from Tiffany lamps to a big fucking chandelier. Who of thought that a mug that gets a hard-on from his pistol would have good taste in furniture and shit?

Too bad it's gonna get all fucked up when he sees what I see. "Fuck you." I file in behind Candy and put my hand on my piece. I know right away that this shit is about to be ugly.

All-Nighter's just sitting there on Eni's couch like he owns the fucking place. He don't even flinch when both of Eni's hands come out of his pockets with two of the biggest hand cannons I done ever seen. Of course, All-Nighter's got his piece aimed at Eni, Eni's got two on him, Big D's aiming at Moves, Face is on Smiley, KO's on me, I'm on Princess, she's aimed at Teach and Sneaky and Moves got Johnny Boy covered. The only one without a piece is Candy. Like that's something new.

"You wanna explain this shit?" All-Nighter motions to the table in front of him where a bunch of fucking files is sitting. He don't seem to raise his voice but the way he's biting his lip says that he's pissed about whatever is inside.

If there's one thing I really like about Eni is don't nothing upset him. He don't say shit. He just looks at All-Nighter and cocks his gun. He'd rather shoot him in the face than to answer his question. That kid's got heart. I gotta hand it to him.

"All right. Cool down, guys. Put your fucking pieces away. We all came here together for a reason." Candy's such a fucking diplomat. Sweet ass.

I see Face moving from the corner of my eye. His piece is still raised but he's walking toward where Candy is. "Shut up Smiley. You're fuckin' laughin' is giving me a headache." Face ain't the only one. Smiley's laugh gets on my fucking nerves, too. "Candy's right. We need to figure this shit out together. If we all go killin' each other, don't nothin' get solved."

"I ain't solving shit until I find out why the hell Enigmatic got files on us." All-Nighter crosses his legs, with his piece aimed at Eni. He done made up his mind, he ain't moving.

I see Princess cock her barrel and I know that the shit is about to go down hill. If there's one thing she don't take kindly to, it's not being the only woman that All-Nighter shows his affection for. "What the fuck is _she_ doing here, All-Nighter?"

"Shut up Princess, baby." All-Nighter never looks at her, only at Eni. "Answer the fucking question."

Teach's face turns about 10 different shades of red. You know while they're all paying attention to this shit, I could clean Eni's house out. "Baby? So this is what you been leaving me for? _This _is your fucking Princess? Well maybe I'll leave your ass for one of 'em." She points to us and gets off the couch. Of course she cozies up to Big D. He got this way with women.

"Teach?" All-Nighter sounds like he's really shooken up by this little display of disloyalty. "Come on."

That little tone in his voice don't go unnoticed by Princess neither. "So you're the bitch? I knew All-Nighter was fucking somebody else, I just ain't think it would be a trollip."

It's funny 'cause D don't seem to mind that she's a trollip. He got one arm raised with a Smith & Wesson and the other arm wrapped around Teach. "From the way I see things, even if the rest us get capped, you gettin' it first. My boys don't like you. All I gotta do is give the word." D shrugs his shoulders and looks around the room. "And Eni here don't miss. So if I was you, I'd explain what the fuck you doin' in his house."

"And he'd needs to explain what the fuck these files is doin' here." All-nighter stands up. That's the wrong fucking move, 'cause now Eni is directly in front of him, with the barrel of his colt pressed square between his eyes.

Watching Candy run is funny. But, for a big man, he's fast. "Eni. Put the piece away. Come on man, think about it." For all the shit Candy's good for, he ain't too good at whispering, though. "Kelly's gonna be pissed if you get blood all over her couch."

"You got twenty seconds before I kill you." That fucking Kelly girl is gonna get Eni killed. As soon as Candy says her name, Eni's eyes twinkle and he turns his head a little in Candy's direction. "That's it, ain't it. You came here for her." Eni narrows his eyes and a slow smile crosses his face. We all know what's next. We done seen work before.

"Eni, she's in a safe place, you know this. And the fucking files are mine." Princess speaks up. No matter how mad at All-Nighter she is, she knows Eni ain't bullshitting. She ain't about to let All-Nighter die. "I stole 'em from the piece of shit husband and gave 'em to Candy. Eni's keeping 'em 'cause ain't no mug in his RIGHT FUCKING MIND gonna come up in Eni's house. Not if they don't wanna to leave full of fucking holes."

At that piece of information, we all lower our guns. That is all except Eni. "But you came here with the intentions of hurtin' my girl. That means you gonna have to die."

"Deal with that shit later." Johnny Boy puts his piece in its holster and flops down on a chair. The others seem to like the idea because they all start sitting. I'm comfortable standing by the side table. There's a lotta shit I like over here and I wanna better view.

As soon as I see KO walk toward the couch, I know that I can spend as much time here as I want. He's bound to fuck something up. He always does. So, I pick up a crystal elephant from the table and look at it under the light. The detail is fucking amazing. But my attention is diverted when All-Nighter yelps from across the room. Seeing KO standing by him with his fists balled up, I figure KO done punched him.

"What the fuck you hit him in the ear for?" Big D has little to no patience with KO. He's just like a big retarded kid. "We was all calm and settled and you gotta start with this shit. Just take your stupid ass over there and watch the fucking door." He shakes his head in disgust. "Johnny Boy, I'm telling you, you gotta watch his ass better. Or I swear to Christ, I'm gonna have Eni put him down."

KO stuffs his hands in his pockets and looks at the floor while he walks toward the door. "He pulled a gun on Eni and made him mad." He makes sure to kick a laughing Smiley's foot as he walks past him. "Shut up."

"So what's goin' on here?" Moves picks up one of the files and starts rummaging through it. "Why Hunter got all these files."

"From what me and Princess came up with, they was looking to set us up." Candy rubs his hand across his jaw like he does when he's thinking. No wonder that guy can't grow a fucking beard. He's always fucking thinking. "See look. We been using Mysterio for years now. And tonight was the first time they done missed a drop. The only people that was supposed to know about our delivery was us and that Captain, but the Captain's dead. And he was a fucking stoolie Fed to boot."

"The whole crew was Feds. Taker lifted the wallets. Every last one of them was fucking Johnny Law." Moves says matter-of-factly.

"See D," KO calls from across the room. "I ain't the only one that took summin' from one of dem dead guys."

D don't even turn in his direction. Instead he points is finger toward the door. "Johnny."

"Shut the fuck up, KO." Johnny gets real comfortable in his seat and closes his eyes like he's bored. "If you turn your face from that door one more time, I'm gonna fucking shoot you myself." He means it. Johnny likes KO, but he don't care if he'd have to kill him.

Me neither. The commotion would give me more time to see what else Eni got in this place. I still got the crystal elephant in my hand, but I spot a little porcelain ballerina on the ledge by the window. I stroll across the room letting these smart mugs figure this shit out on their own. Right now, I'm on a shopping spree.

"Eni, you ain't gonna have shit left." I almost can't make out what the fuck Smiley's talking about because his smile is so fucking huge. It's like his lips don't move 'cause they're spread across his fucking face. "Takers gonna clean you out."

I see Big D raise his hand and shake his head at Eni. Apparently he he's trying to keep the peace or something. I don't need D's protection. That fucking Colt of his is about to me mine in a minute. "You know Smiley I can take that fucking smile off your face if you want." I don't dislike Smiley but he's too fucking happy for me..

"Enough of this shit. We got real problems here, Fellas." Candy redirects the room's attention to him. "We know that the shipment was the Fed's way of dropping the dime on us. These file and these rap sheets that Princess got proves that they been planning this shit for a long time."

"But Feds don't kill other Feds." Moves flops a file on the table and looks up at Candy. I love watching him and Candy work shit out. It truly is a beautiful thing; not half as beautiful as this ballerina, but it's still nice. "And they don't use Gats."

Candy shakes his finger at Princess and nods. "Whoever did this shit has an inside connect. They knew to take down the Captain and set it up to make sure that the other crew looks guilty."

"Who's Mr. Moneybags?" Sneaky pulls a paper from his pocket and hands it to Moves. I don't know where he got it from, unless he been sneaking some shit while we was all in here with him. "This is the second time we done heard about this mug having a meeting at two this morning. It's the same as the note I lifted from Double V."

Moves nods in understanding and takes the other note out of his pocket. "Sure enough."

Candy thinks that piece of information is important and he takes the papers out of Move's hands. Everyone's head is turning from Moves to Candy, all except Eni, who's still got his hand on the butt of his gun, just waiting to pull it on All-Nighter. "Where'd you get this?"

"That's mine." Teach leans over and takes the paper. She looks confused for a minute but she nods her head. I have to laugh at the way Big D is trying to size her up while she's on his lap. All the shit we gotta deal with and he's trying to judge how big her ass is. "Kelly gave it to me. It's the list of all the stuff she wanted me to bring to her tonight."

Eni reaches over, one eye on All-Nighter, the other on the note. "Where'd she get it from?"

"I guess from Big Kev. She's staying at his place until you come get her. But it's Bugsy Jarrett's card." Teach rolls her eyes as soon as Princess looks over at her.

You know, they can try to figure this shit out all night. In the meantime, I'm looking for silver. "You gotta lotta nice shit here, Eni. It would be a shame if somebody got greedy and took it all."

"That's it!" Moves jumps out and scares the shit out of all of us. "Fuck me. Candy, why didn't we see this?"

Johnny Boy yawns real loud and stands up to crack his back. "Eni, you got something to drink?"

"You thinking about drinking at the time like this? Moves is about to break this shit down." Princess don't like to be interrupted, especially when the guys she cares the most about is about to take the heat for some shit we ain't do. "Sit your ass down and listen."

With a shrug of his shoulders, Johnny walks toward a door. "I don't give a fuck what happened. Just let me know where I gotta be and what I gotta do. I'll be in the kitchen." Big D don't even try to stop him. I gotta hand it to D, he lets his boys do their thing and don't try to embarrass them like fucking Lucky does. That's called class.

"Well, you gotta kill the Dons." Moves' voice stops Johnny in his tracks. I can tell by that fucking gleam in his eye that this is gonna be the longest explanation in the history of long explanations. Moves likes to stroke his own cock like that. "It all makes sense. Look it. Double V gotta inside connect with Headhunter. Headhunter tells him someone's gotta go down for the bust and he offers up us from Classics." He digs some shit out of his bag and shows it to Candy. "While he's on the boat making plans with the Feds, he drops his scarf and his money clip. He walks away with the shipment leaving Lucky high and fucking dry."

Candy shakes his head at that explanation. "Only problem with that is Bugsy is the one that did the double cross. Look it, we found his shit at the pier." Candy pulls out a cufflink and some nasty ass cigarette butts. I love Candy like my brother, but he takes the most useless shit.

Moves taps his finger against his lips and snaps. You'd think he just discovered the cure for Polo or some shit. "We know now that Double V made it inside that boat, so more than likely he got the booze. It was probably him and his crew that was shootin' at us. But what if Bugsy was there too, but outside? I bet while we was still firin' Double V left. Bugsy rolled up and shot it out with them, Double V left with the booze and Bugsy took the money. He probably laid low, waitin' 'til y'all showed up and pinched y'all, too. Now he's got all the money. His cufflinks, and the Gat, that classic Bugsy. Shit who you think I bought the last Gat from for Eni? Fuckin' Bugsy sold it to me. It proves that he was flexing some hard muscle to get his point across. Now they both wanna meet each other at two. That can only mean one thing." Moves looks at our blank faces and throws his hands up in disgust. Like he don't like knowing that no one knows what the fuck he's talking about.

I guess I ain't the only one that feels that way. "Candy, I'm thirsty. What the fuck is he talking about?" Johnny Boy lights up a Carlton and blows the smoke in the air.

"I'm talkin' about," Moves cuts in. He don't like to be interrupted when he thinks he's being a genius, "They're gonna kill each other to get the other half. If Bugs wins, he gets all the booze. Double V? He gets all the loot. And in the mean time, both Classics and The Spot is left holdin' the fuckin' bag. If we don't got no product, Lucky looses Classics to Headhunter and Bishop."

Big D shakes his head but his hand steadily rounds Teach's thigh. "And I loose The Spot 'cause with no profit, Double V is gonna take over the club himself."

"I don't know Moves. It's a little thin…a little too convenient for me." Candy's so fucking careful. I swear I don't know no broads that over think shit like he does.

"Sons-a-bitches." Princess shakes her head in disbelief. "Well Candy, you gotta a better idea? Cause if so let's hear it." She looks at Moves then at Candy and I know that this night is just gonna get longer.

"That's it. The Dons die." Big D pats Teach's ass and she moves off of his lap. He stands up and looks around the room addressing each one of us. "I gave you two hours, Candy and you ain't gave me nothing. Moves thinks this is how it went down and sounds as like as good an idea to me as any. One of them Wise Guys is trying to set us up. If we don't put 'em down, we all going up the river. And I ain't doing no more time. Fuck that. If Double V and Bugsy wanna war, we're gonna give 'em the biggest fucking war Southey done ever seen."

"But D…" I can't take it no more. I swear Candy is a fucking broad.

"Fuck the but D's. It's going down, tonight. Now, I suggest you, Moves and Sneaky get together and come up with a plan. Eni, you make sure the boys is armed. Smiley, stop fucking laughing and go help Eni. All-Nighter you settle this shit with Princess, cause I ain't walking into a war during your little lover's quarrel. Taker, put all that shit you done gaffled back where you found it. Johnny, baby-sit fucking KO. KO, just shut the fuck up and do what Johnny Boy says. You don't move from that fucking spot unless you're told. And if I find out you did, I'ma bust your ass myself." I gotta hand it to D. He gotta way about him that just make me people listen.

Face looks around the room confused and clicks that lighter faster. "What about me, Big D?"

"Face…put the lighter away and stay away from the fucking stove." He reaches over and takes Teach by the hand. "I'm going upstairs. Yous got thirty minutes to get this shit together."

Well that settles it. We gotta take out the Dons, only how without getting killed? And just when everything was looking up. I got a pocket full of Eni's shit and it's nice shit, too. But what good is it if I ain't gonna get to enjoy it? Fucking around with D and his crew, we're going after two of the biggest Dons in all of Boston. This shit ain't gonna end well. I know one thing, though. I'm taking all of my shit with me, cause ain't nobody else getting it if I get snuffed. And by chance I do make it out alive, and we find the booze, I'm taking a little extra. I earned the right.

Making me part with my worldly possessions….stupid fucking shipment.


	14. Big Kev's Clean Hands

_A/N: Big Kev was giving me stress, but I think we worked it out. I hope you start to understand what's going on now. _

* * *

Big Kev's Clean Hands

Ya know, I ain't never been here before. You wouldn't think it judging by the mugs I hang around with and the lowlife I work for. Of course, I wouldn't never come down here for none of my own shit. I ain't really that kinda guy. I mean, I see a lotta shit, but I ain't really _involved _with none of it. So I guess there ain't no reason for me to ever end up here, huh?

See, I keep my hands clean and in my line of work, that ain't always the easiest thing to do. But I'm lucky like that. I like to think it's cause I'm such a nice guy. I don't bother nobody. I'm usually pretty fucking polite to dames I meet. I treat 'em real special. Just ask the girls at Classics. Everyone of them'll tell ya, Big Kev is a sweetheart. I smile, hold their hand and look 'em in the eye when I talk to 'em. They like that. It makes 'em feel pretty.

And the Johnny Law's? I'm just as nice to them, too. I ain't hardly never had to get rough with no one I was shaken down. A little smile goes a long way, ya know? I don't go around trying to scare goons like that fucking Show does. He don't know how muscle with class. That's why that fucking grip is gonna end up sleeping with the fishes.

I can't help it. See, I always been thisa way. Big D always says I'm too nice a guy to be muscle for Bugsy Jarrett. I tell him, you ain't gotta be mean to drive a car. I wish I just did that, ya know? Like just drive for a crew. But no. Bugs thinks I'm a good driver, but much better muscle. He thinks 'cause I'm big people listen to me. That ain't always the case. And I don't like all the attention. I'd rather be behind the wheel, speeding the hell out of dodge than doing some of the horrible shit he asks me to do. And he wants some horrible shit done. Bugs done a lotta wrong shit to people, his own family included.

Did you know that he killed Lucky's parents because they owed him some money for Christmas presents? Just like that, killed 'em and took little Lucky in as his own. Not that he treated him like a son or nothing. He hated little bastard as much as the rest of us do. I think it's because he never approved of his sister marrying a Mick. That meant Lucky can't never be made and Busgy ain't have no kids of his own. He blamed his sister for destroying the legacy that his grandfather worked so hard to build. I think that's why Lucky's parents got popped to be truthful. But I ain't got no proof of that. All of that shit happened before my time. And believe you me, I wouldn't be involved with that shit if it was going on now.

Knowing when to mind my business, that's how I stay outta trouble. I got this knack for feeling out when a situation is more than I can handle. I ain't scared of trouble. I just don't wanna be involved with it. I ain't a trigger man. I ain't never had to use my piece, I'm proud to say. I much better behind the wheel of a car, than behind the barrell of a gun. Smiley says I drive so good cause I'm trying to run away from shit. I told him he can suck my dick, but he might have a point.

You wanna know a little secret? A couple times when I was given the order to make an example outta some poor schmuck, I freelanced the job. There's a couple of guys I go to, depending on what needs to be done. I know the best guys in the business and I don't give a fuck who they work for.

For instance, if I just need to rough somebody up, I call on KO. He'll beat the shit outta anybody and don't ask why. Dealing with him's a little tricky though 'cause I always gotta pull him off. He don't understand the difference between 'break his legs' and 'bash his skull in'. But he's good at what he does, though.

And let's just say that I need building burned down, with a couple of mugs inside, cause Bugsy wats to cash in on the insurance…that's when I go to Babyface. Don't nobody suspect him of shit. And say I need a guy's throat slit and have look like he had an accident shaving. That's when I call Smiley. Or if I need something done quick, precise, marksman style… that's all Eni.

I got enough friends that I don't have get my hands dirty. I even got friends that clean the fuck up. Taker'll take every fucking piece of evidence, identification, even the fucking paint off the walls…they aren't never an identifying mark left. And All-nighter? He's the fucking neat freak. He'd stash the bodies in neat little piles off in corner somewhere, so he don't have look at the cluttered remains of Joes that got there caps pealed.

Don't get me wrong, freelancing ain't cheap. But my boys and I gotta deal. Sometimes, I drive a car for them; sometimes they do shit for me. Like that time that that store keeper wasn't buying his shit through Bugsy's distributors, I hadda call Eni to put two bullets in both knee caps. As a favor to him, I mighta borrowed a big ass cannon from Bugsy's war collection to give to him. I knew damn well he already two of 'em, but Eni shoots shit all the time and I figured he busted his up. Bugsy didn't know the difference, Eni got another big ass gun, everybody was happy.

Hey, don't look at me like that. It's hard work keeping my hands clean in this business. I got a house and girl that ain't cheap. So, I gotta do what I gotta do.And what I gotta do, right now, is back to work. So, lemme tell you what I know about what went down tonight.

It all started tonight when Bugsy kept whining and shit about not being able to find his favorite diamond cufflinks. I told him that I had seen 'em was when I took him home last night. He was entertaining a lady friend of his that dances at The Spot. They call her Legs, because she's got these Legs that are fucking non-stop. I ain't really want none of the details, cause I know Big D's giving her the stiffy on the side. D's my boy, but Bugs is my boss. What's a fella to do?

Anyways, Bugsy thought he could convince Legs to dance for Classics and he was gonna show her the finer things in life. Shit that he swears Big D can't never show her, which is bullshit 'cause D's a classy guy. But, I guess things ain't go so hot because when Legs was gone, so were the cuffies.

I swear I had to listen to Bugs talk about Big D's _low class_ broads the whole ride to the office. Then he was talking about having her put to sleep for stealing from him. I hope to God that he didn't mean for me to do it. That ain't my bag. Imagine talking about killing a woman with legs like that over a pair of cuffies? Espeically when he got more.

Well it just so happened that by the time we got to the office, he forgot all about snuffing Legs. See, when we walked in the door we was greeted by my two favorite Federal agents. They always make me nervous. Like the last time them sons-a-bitches waltzed in Bugs' place, they suddenly became owners of two of the finest pieces of pier real estate. Just so happens that I wasn't there at the time. But tonight, Bugs was all kinds of happy that I was around. He told me to watch his back for any funny business and take 'em out if they started some shit. Fuck that shit. I wasn't doing that. Killing fucking Feds? Bugsy's fucking crazy.

I played it off cool, though. I did what I always do, which ain't much. I stood around and looked scary, hoping that those fucking flat foots would take the hint. Now as the Feds is leaving out that little fucker Bishop tells me to watch my back tonight. Then he laughs that usual bullshit laugh of his and pats me on the arm. I ain't think nothing of it, probably his Wing-tips was tied too tight. A hazard of being a flat foot.

But they musta said something that really pissed Bugs off, because he starts yelling about going to Classics to see his darling nephew. I know right there he ain't happy, cause Bugs don't ever request to see Lucky. I ain't understand it all, something about the Feds paying him his cut and some booze or some shit. I don't know. Alls I know if Bugs is about to hit the fucking roof.

So before I go walking in there all blind and shit, I decided to call the club to check out the vibe. The last thing I was going to do was walk into a shootout cause Lucky done fucked something up. Now see, my girl, Frenchy,dances there. Not because she's a great dancer or nothing, but so I can watch her ass. And it's amazing how she watches mine, too. Always getting me info on what the fuck Lucky's up to. Guess I can't be all mad that he's taking a liking to her.

Remember that way of sensing trouble I told ya 'bout? Well it kicked into high fucking gear when I talked to Frenchy. To start, she tells me that Kelly's all upset. Now I know that don't sound like nothing, but if you knew Kelly, your senses would be perking up, too. So when I asked Frenchy why, she says something about Eni and a shipment or something.

Now, this the second time tonight I done heard about some shipment. First from the Feds outside of Bugsy's office and now from Frenchy and Eni's got something to do with it. I needed more, so I told her to keep an eye on Lucky. Low and behold, that fucker calls her up to his office while she's on the phone with me. So I knew right away that we was gonna have to get to Classics fast. I would hate to have to actually pull the trigger cause Lucky done touched my girl.

So we get to Classics in record fucking time. I was driving of course and I'm looking around for some signs of trouble. Of course fucking Bugs won't get out the car unless I make sure it's secure first. Like I wanna get shot for his ass. But I do it and I just so happen to see all the boys but Taker walking outside. It ain't feel right cause the house was packed and all the security was fucking leaving.

Just before I head back to the car to tell Bugs that something feels off, a kid comes up to me with a note. He says that some mug paid him a pence to give it to Bugs. I ain't read it or nothing. I just went back to the car and gave it to the man. He didn't seem real interested. He was more interested in why the fuck the Feds' car was out front, when they ain't leave his office not an hour ago. Lucky was in deep shit.

We wait for a little bit and watch as the flat foots leave before we go inside. Bugs goes to Lucky and I decide to talk to Kelly for more information. She pushed down the intercom. We hear all about how Lucky got pinched. He even tells Bugs that Big D did it.

Now, Bugs ain't really the type to get bent outta shape about a shipment. As much money as he got, that's small time. But because Double V's name was involved, that shit became major. Almost as major as Kelly's attitude at the mention of Big D's crew. She's going on and on about how her Eni didn't do nothing like that and how Candace thinks it was All-nighter and the guys.

I hadda tell her to shut up or she was gonna get us found out as snoopers. I didn't mean to yell, but she was almost hysterical whine Bugs came out and told me to send a note to Double V. She just had a feeling that Eni was gonna get hurt. I couldn't tell her that nothing would happen to him on my watch…not with Bugs there…not if I valued my life.

So I did the job. I ran a few errands, then I went to The Spot. Just so happens that by the time I tell D that Bugs wanna see Double V, fucking Eni is bringing Kelly in. He don't say much, just that Frenchy said that Kelly can stay with us. Now my radar's really going off. I don't know what the trouble is, but Eni ain't the type to ring false alarms. What else could I do? I took her back to my place and made sure that Frenchy and Teach was there to take care of her.

Now I'm a careful Joe. I drive cars and I ain't shot no one, ever. I might not be as heartless as Eni or as smart as Candy or Moves, but I know when something don't feel right. I know when my hands about to get dirty and I don't fucking like it. Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Bugs, you sure this the right place?" I been to this pier a hundred times, but it ain't never look as deserted as it do right now. There ain't even one street light on and I know boats come through here all times a night. I really don't like this shit. "Who the fuck we meeting anyways?"

Bugs looks nervous, which for him ain't nothing. He always looks fucking nervous. To be a Don, he sure is a scrawny, scary little bastard. "Yeah. This is where it said. Get out and check it out."

"Who the fuck I'm looking for?" I'm out on the pier at two in the fucking morning, people ain't exactly bustling around this place. I get more nerves behind the wheel of a car. Cause if something pops off, I can mash my foot to that gas pedal and take off in no time. On foot? I'ma sitting fucking duck.

Bugs shrugs. He don't give a fuck. If I take a bullet, he'll still get to drive away. "You'll know."

I don't say nothing else. I get out the car and stretch real good. I know my gun is loaded and one day I'm gonna have to shoot it. I just hope it ain't today. It's so quiet that I can hear my shoes on the ground as I walk. It's dark and there's a fog coming off the water. Really is making my stomach churn.

I stop when a see the glare of a cigarette. I can't make out who it is, because it's too dark. But I can see a shadow next to him move. "You who we meeting?" I play it off cool, cause I'm a big guy. Little does this grip know, I'm shitting fucking bricks.

"Where's your boss? I got something I think he wants back." I don't know the voice, but judging from the light that ciggy gives off, there's a least four of them. Now I gotta choice, go get Bugs and let him get shot…or refuse and _I_ get dead.

"Be right back." I ain't stupid. Don't ever let anybody tell you I am. I walk kinda fast back to the car, but I ain't gonna look over my shoulder. I may not of ever shot my piece, but I never let nobody think I was scared, either. They ain't gotta know the truth. "Bugs, them mugs is here. It's four of 'em and they don't look armed." I don't know if they're armed or not. I ain't stick around long enough to see. Alls I know is _I_ don't wanna get capped if they are.

Nodding his head, Bugs steps outta the car with his briefcase. I don't know what's in it, or really what we're here for. I don't care, neither. I just wanna go the hell home. I walk with him back over to rolling door of the warehouse only them mugs ain't there now. But fucking Double V is. What kinda switch-a-roo is this?

"Double V." Bugs nods his head like he suspected it all along. I'm confused. If it was him and his goons shadows before, why ain't he just shoot me then? He coulda popped me and then got Bugs and the guys in the car. Why wait 'til we're all here?

"Bugs." Double V nods back. "What balls you got inviting me out here this time of night? Makes sense though…neutral turf and all." There's something about the way that V is rearing back on his heals and checking out the scenery that don't sit right with me. He ain't familiar with this turf. Why would he invite Bugs out here in the dark, when he don't know the lay of the land. And the what the fuck does he mean that _Bugs_ invited _him?_

Bugs looks at me and the few guys we got with us. He looks just as uncomfortable as Double V does. "Me? You the one paying kids to slip notes under my door. So what the fuck you want V? You gonna try to bribe me for my booze back?"

And there's that fucking laugh. "Me? _You _stole my booze and my money."

Before Bugs can answer I hear this crack across the water. The next thing I know, mugs is ducking for cover. Bullets come out in every fucking direction. I took this job for the money and perks, not to get fucking shot at. My daddy used to say that a good run beats a bad stand and since I ain't no shooter, I'm running my ass somewheres far away.

I find a spot right behind a dumpster and from here I can see that the pier ain't fucking dark no more. It just lights, and a big ass fire coming from inside the warehouse. I can see sparks from guns coming from seven different directions and freak fire blasts blowing up all the buildings. I don't know what the fuck is going on, it's too chaotic. Too many people running and screaming. Too much smoke and blood. It looks like a fucking war zone out here. And just as quick as starts, it fucking stops. It's quiet. Just the sound of glass exploding, and a few moans.

I can hear someone walking up to me, and this wheezy sound. There's more foot steps and I can just barely make out some mug with a hat and a ciggy. He flicks it and it bounces off of the poor schmuck right before he falls to the ground.

I listen for a few minutes and there's this sound, like a high pitched laugh. I don't know what the fuck that is or who the fuck would make it. But I do know the familiar screech of tires when I hear it. I know right away that that ain't no normal car. That's some fancy shit with too much weight in it cause the tires sound real heavy. Hey, I know my cars and I know what a peal out on tires that ain't evenly distributed sounds like. It sounds like I need to keep my ass put for another minute.

I think it's safe. I step out from my hiding space and look down at the body on the ground. I don't believe it. Don Double V – "Vinny" Vincent McMahon, done got his throat slit from ear to ear. Some fucking Wise Guy had the balls to take out a Don.

I gotta get the hell away from here. There's other guys on the ground, too, but I don't know them. Thems the guys that Double V brought with him. I damn sure ain't helping none of them, cause I don't blood on my hands. Literally or figuratively.

I start to walk over to the car but what I see stops me. Bugsy. He's fucking slouched in front of the car, with a bullet between his eyes. And because the back of his head is still on, I'd say it wasn't point blank range. That shit happened from far away. I look up and sure enough on the top of that warehouse is a tripod. "That's quite a fucking distance." I'm getting the hell outta here.

Whoever them guys were, they were fucking pros. There was four of us in the car, now I'm the only one that's driving away. But, I'm also the only one that ain't drew my gun. So maybe that's the reason I don't fucking shoot. I ain't willing to get shot. Fucking notes, and Feds, and dead Dons on a pier. Fuck. What the fuck am I gonna do? The Council's gonna have a thousand fucking questions and I don't have no fucking answers. I need this shit cleaned up. I need them bodies stashed so don't nobody ask me nothing. I need to call Taker and All-Nighter.

How the fuck did I get invovled with this? Now my hands is gonna get dirty because of this small time fucking shipment.


End file.
